When Summer Comes
When Summer Comes
Brenda Novak
Welcome to Whiskey Creek—heart of the gold country! One day, Callie Vanetta receives devastating news… She needs a liver transplant. But her doctors warn that, in her case, the chances of finding a compatible donor aren’t good. Determined to spend whatever time she has left on her own terms, she keeps the diagnosis to herself and moves out to her late grandparents’ farm.She’s always wanted to live there. But the farm hasn’t been worked in years and she begins to fear she can’t manage it, that she’ll have to return to town. One night, a stranger comes knocking at her door…He’s an attractive and mysterious drifter by the name of Levi McCloud, and he offers to trade work for a few nights’ shelter. Callie figures she doesn’t have anything to lose. He needs a place to stay until he can fix his motorcycle; she needs an extra pair of hands.The arrangement seems ideal until what was supposed to be temporary starts to look more and more permanent. Then she realizes she does have something to lose—her heart. And although he doesn’t yet know it, Levi stands to lose even more.
One day, Callie Vanetta receives devastating news…
She needs a liver transplant. But her doctors warn that, in her case, the chances of finding a compatible donor aren’t good.
Determined to spend whatever time she has left on her own terms, she keeps the diagnosis to herself and moves out to her late grandparents’ farm. She’s always wanted to live there. But the farm hasn’t been worked in years and she begins to fear she can’t manage it, that she’ll have to return to town.
One night, a stranger comes knocking at her door…
He’s an attractive and mysterious drifter by the name of Levi McCloud, and he offers to trade work for a few nights’ shelter. Callie figures she doesn’t have anything to lose. He needs a place to stay until he can fix his motorcycle; she needs an extra pair of hands. The arrangement seems ideal until what was supposed to be temporary starts to look more and more permanent. Then she realizes she does have something to lose—her heart. And, although he doesn’t yet know it, Levi stands to lose even more.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak
The characters’ “heartwarming romance develops slowly
and sweetly. The sex is fantastic, but the best part is
how Simon and Gail tease and laugh as they grow closer.”
—Publishers Weekly on When Lightning Strikes
“Novak delivers a lively, sparkling series debut…
romantic gold by a superior novelist. The love story blossoms naturally, which is rare nowadays.…
Additionally, by populating Whiskey Creek with
realistic characters—instead of ‘quirky’ caricatures—
Novak ensures that readers will eagerly await their next visit.”
—RT Book Reviews on When Lightning Strikes
“Whenever I see a new Brenda Novak book, I buy it and read it, pronto. I can always count on her for a solid, exciting story, full of adventure and romance.”
—Linda Lael Miller, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Any book by Brenda Novak is a must-buy for me.”
—Reader to Reader Reviews
“Brenda Novak’s seamless plotting,
emotional intensity and true-to-life characters
who jump off the page make her books completely satisfying. Novak is simply a great storyteller.”
—Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author
“I suggest Brenda Novak be added to your ‘to buy’ list today. You won’t be disappointed.”
—Romance Reader’s Connection
“In Close is intense and sensual and chock-full of
emotional torment. The array of transgressions and suspects and small-town secrets makes for a riveting read.”
—USA TODAY
“Novak is an expert at creating emotionally driven romances full of heat, sensual tension and conflict that not only
satisfy her characters but her readers as well.”
—Writers Unlimited
When Summer Comes
Brenda
Novak
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
To Danita Moon. Your kindness, generosity and support have made such an impact on my life. Thank you for diving in and helping to make my annual online auction for diabetes research such a success. Here’s to hitting that $2 million mark next year. Thanks, too, for your enthusiasm for my books. Your willing heart and capable hands have made my load so much lighter.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Whiskey Creek! This series has been fun for me to write. I love the group of friends these stories are based on. Truth be told, I’m a little jealous of them. I wish I’d been able to keep my high school friends a bit closer, but I moved the day after graduation and have never gone back, at least for any length of time. That’s caused quite a bit of drifting in those relationships, which is too bad. There’s definitely something special about knowing someone for so long and sharing so much.
This story was inspired by a friend of mine from college who was diagnosed with nonalcoholic fatty liver disease ten years ago. She was a wife and mother in the prime of her life and, being Mormon, never drank. I remember being so surprised that her only hope for life was a liver transplant. It seemed far too incongruous with how healthy she’d always been. But I’m happy to report that she received the transplant she needed. It’s now a decade later and she’s just as beautiful and energetic as she ever was. I saw her when I was visiting Utah recently and felt so gratified to see her thriving. Then I learned that another friend of mine (this one here in California) was recently diagnosed with the same thing. My California friend is currently on the national donor list, hoping and praying that a liver becomes available—and I’m hoping and praying right along with her.
In case you’re not aware, there have been two other novels published in this series—When Lightning Strikes (released 9/12) and When Snow Falls (11/12). There’s even a 150-page novella that kicks off the series (When We Touch). Information about these and my other titles can be found on my website, BrendaNovak.com. There, you can also enter to win my monthly drawings, sign up for my newsletter, contact me with comments or questions and join my fight to find a cure for diabetes. My youngest son suffers from this disease. So far, thanks to my generous supporters, my annual online auctions (held every May at BrendaNovak.com) have raised a cumulative total of $1.6 million.
Here’s to your health and happiness!
Brenda Novak
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u74381b01-865c-5224-ad2d-f5bdab4020b4)
Chapter 2 (#u71ea375f-8be3-5494-a4d5-b657942205a2)
Chapter 3 (#u5cbfe83b-4016-50d8-a455-449be186530b)
Chapter 4 (#ubc216299-84b3-5085-bdbb-9def39e8be30)
Chapter 5 (#u46076ac9-ff01-5609-8fca-8cea76aadaac)
Chapter 6 (#u0c947bf7-0418-552e-9380-35c8ea5cdf78)
Chapter 7 (#ubd053676-6ab5-56e2-97a3-a6bc21ea5713)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
1
The barking of her dog dragged Callie Vanetta from a deep sleep.
Rifle, the German shepherd her parents had given her for Christmas, was only two years old, but he was the smartest animal she’d ever known, certainly savvy enough not to make a racket in the middle of the night without reason. Despite all the critters that scurried around the place after dark, he hadn’t awakened her like this once in the three months since she’d moved to the farm.
So if he thought she had something to worry about, there was a good chance she did.
Despite the warm June night, chills rolled through Callie’s body as she lay on her back, blinking against the darkness. She’d always felt so safe in her grandparents’ home. They’d passed away five years ago, but the comfort of their love and the memories created here lingered on. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could almost feel their presence.
But not tonight. Fear eclipsed all other emotions, and she wondered what she’d been thinking when she gave up the small apartment above her photography studio downtown. She was out in the middle of nowhere, her closest neighbor over a mile down the road, with her dog sounding an alarm and scratching at the front door as if some menace lay beyond it.
“Rifle?” She whispered his name as loudly as she dared. “Hey!” she added, making kissing sounds.
He charged into her room, but he wasn’t about to settle down. He circled in place, whining to let her know he didn’t like something he heard outside. Then he darted back to the front door, singularly determined to show her where the trouble was.
She thought he might try to rouse her again. He obviously hoped to get her out of bed. But she was so frightened and undecided about what to do she couldn’t move. Especially when he quit barking and emitted a deep, threatening growl—one that told her he’d laid back his ears and bared his teeth.
The hair rose on Callie’s arms. Her dog meant business. She’d never seen him like this. What had him so upset? And what should she do about it? She’d watched too many true-crime shows not to realize what could happen. But, given her health, getting murdered would be too ironic. Surely, this couldn’t be leading there.
She’d just decided to call the police when a heavy knock sounded and a male voice carried into the house.
“Hello? Anyone home? Sorry to wake you, but...could a man come out here, please? I need some help.”
A man? Whoever was at her door wasn’t from Whiskey Creek. Her family had lived in the area for generations. Everyone knew that this was the Vanetta farm, that the aging Theona and Herbert had died within months of each other and she was living here alone.
“Hello?” the man called again. “Please, someone answer me!”
Should she respond? Letting him hear her voice would tell him she was a woman, which didn’t seem smart. But she had her dog to defend her. And she had a pellet gun she used to scare off skunks and raccoons and any other animals that might have rabies or get aggressive.
Problem was she couldn’t remember where she’d put it. The screened-in porch that overlooked the outbuildings in back? The mudroom off the kitchen? She might even have left it in the barn. Until now, she hadn’t felt any need for self-defense. All the wildlife she’d encountered seemed more afraid of her.
Still, she should’ve kept that gun close. What good was it otherwise? She wasn’t going to scare anyone away with her camera.
“Open up!” Bang, bang, bang.
Drawing a shaky breath, she called 9-1-1 on her cell phone, which had been charging on the nightstand, and, speaking as low as she could and still be heard, told the operator that she had a stranger at her door. The operator advised her to sit tight, a squad car was on its way, but she slid out of bed and groped through the darkness for some clothes. Summer had come early this year. With the weather so mild, she hadn’t worn anything to bed except a pair of panties. In case her visitor tried to break in before the police arrived, she wanted to get dressed.
“Can someone help me?” the man hollered.
Wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans, and armed with the knowledge that someone from Whiskey Creek’s four-man police force would soon arrive, she crept toward the door. What was wrong?
Despite the ruckus her dog was making, her visitor didn’t seem to be giving up. His determination lent him a degree of credibility, even though she knew her reasoning was flawed. His persistence didn’t necessarily mean he was telling the truth. If he had a gun and was capable of using it, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting bitten.
So...was he really hurt? If the answer was yes, how’d he get that way? And how did he come across her property, tucked away as it was in the Sierra Nevada foothills? She couldn’t imagine some random individual driving these back roads at one in the morning, especially midweek. She encountered plenty of strangers during tourist season, which was upon them, but always in town. Not out here.
“Shit,” he grumbled when he got no response. Then something hit the door harder than a knock, as if he’d crumpled against the wooden panel and was sliding to the porch floor.
A flicker of concern warred with Callie’s fear. Maybe he really was hurt. Maybe he’d run his car into a ditch or a tree and injured himself so badly he was about to die....
She snapped on the porch light. Although it went against her better judgment to let him know she was home, he’d managed to convince her that he might really
need help. Some of the TV programs depicting real home-invasion robberies also showed innocent victims who were unable to get help because of other people’s fear.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
A swiping sound suggested he was using the door to steady himself as he clambered to his feet. She peered through the peephole, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but even with the porch light on she couldn’t see much—just a man’s head covered in a hooded sweatshirt.
“Thank God,” he said.
She might’ve thought it was one of the Amos brothers.
Although they’d calmed down in recent years, a couple of the younger ones still caused problems, from drunken-and-disorderly conduct to selling crystal meth to fighting. But they lived down by the river on the other side of town, they’d never bothered her before and she would’ve recognized the voice.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she called out over Rifle’s barking. The dog was even more excited now that he had the support of his master in taking on this interloper.
“Name is Levi, Levi McCloud. I need a first-aid kit, some water and rags.”
She ignored the second part. “I don’t know a Levi.”
“I’m just...passing through, ma’am.”
He was leaning too close to the door for her to distinguish his features. Was he doing that on purpose?
The idea that he could be made her more nervous than before. “But you decided to stop here?”
“No choice. My motorcycle...broke down a mile or two back.”
“That’s how you got hurt?”
“No. It was a...a couple of dogs. They ran out and attacked me...for no reason...while I was pushing my bike. Got me good, too.”
The way he forced his words through his teeth suggested that he was in pain, but maybe he was faking it. Maybe he was planning to rob her, rape her, possibly kill her.
“Where did this happen?” she asked.
He attempted to laugh but the sound died almost immediately. “Hell if I know. I’ve never been around here before.”
“Then what made you come now?”
“Heard it was pretty country.”
That was it? He was out on a joyride? Alone? His response didn’t seem particularly plausible, but the scenario he gave wasn’t inconceivable. Out here in the country, dogs weren’t always penned up or put on leashes. He could’ve been attacked, as he said.
She was tempted to open the door, if only to verify his story, see his injuries. But she couldn’t take the risk. “How’d you get away?”
“Listen...” He dropped his head against the door, covering the peephole entirely. Now it was impossible for her to see anything. “I don’t mean to frighten you. Is there...is there a man in the house? Someone else who...who might not...be afraid of me?”
She didn’t want to let on that she was alone. But if a male didn’t take command of the situation soon, he’d know, anyway. Perhaps he’d said that to confirm what he already suspected. “Tell me how you got away from the dogs.”
“I...convinced them I wasn’t...anything they wanted to mess with.”
Meaning he’d hurt the dogs as much as they’d hurt him?
She wondered whose pets they were, and if the incident had really happened. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Hard to tell in the dark, but...it’s bad enough to make me bother you, which isn’t something I wanted to do.”
She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “Okay, just...stay where you are. I’ve called for help. The police will be here soon.”
“The police?” Instead of reacting with relief, as she’d expected, he cursed and shoved away from the door. “Are you serious? They won’t do anything for me.”
“They’ll get you the medical attention you need,” she said, but he wasn’t listening. He was leaving. She could hear the porch creak under his weight.
“Where are you going?” she yelled.
He didn’t answer.
After hurrying to the window, she dropped to her knees in an effort to catch a glimpse of him before he could move out of sight.
For just a moment, she could make out the broad shoulders of a tall, spare man wearing jeans with that hoodie.
Why was he taking off without the help he needed? And why had he acted so averse to meeting up with the police? Was he wanted? A known felon?
Possibly. He had to have some reason for avoiding the authorities. But seeing how obviously he favored one leg, she believed he really was hurt.
She checked the time on her cell phone, which she’d brought with her. How long could it take to get a cruiser out here? She didn’t want to be any more vulnerable than she already was, but she also didn’t want to be responsible for the death of a lonely, injured stranger.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, but each minute felt like an hour. When she couldn’t wait any longer, she sprang to her feet and ordered her dog to silence.
Reassured by this show of strength, Rifle stared up at her, tongue hanging out and tail wagging eagerly. He seemed to be asking, “What now? What are we going to do now?”
“We’re going to see where he went,” she told him. She wasn’t sure he could comprehend her words, but speaking calmed her, and he certainly understood her intention. He barked once to confirm that he was ready.
Holding him by the collar, she slowly, cautiously, opened the door a crack and peered outside. The porch was empty, just as she’d assumed. She couldn’t hear or see any movement, didn’t know where the stranger had gone.
Rifle struggled against the grasp she had on his collar. Then he nudged the door open wide enough to squeeze through and pull her along with him. He even tried to drag her down the steps. Clearly, he wanted to go after the man.
She wasn’t up for that. But before she could insist they go back in and lock the door, she stepped in what her dog had probably smelled—something dark and wet smeared on the floorboards of the porch.
The second she realized it was there, she knew what it was. Blood.
* * *
The police had come and gone, and they hadn’t found a thing—no tall, dark stranger hiding on the premises. Not in the old tack shed. Not in the barn. And not in the cellar. They attempted to follow the blood that led down the steps of Callie’s porch, but the trail disappeared in the grass and dirt about ten feet away.
They poked around for over an hour, hoping to discover what had happened to her guest, but they didn’t have any search dogs with them and Rifle wasn’t trained to track. They tried using him for the first thirty minutes, but he was so distracted and excited by the two officers who’d come to help, she eventually had to shut him up in the mudroom, where she kept his food and water.
In the end, the police couldn’t figure out where the injured man had gone, which left Callie as unsettled after they drove off as before. She couldn’t help wondering if they hadn’t found the stranger because he didn’t want to be found. She didn’t think he’d had time to go far, not injured as he was. So how had he just...disappeared?
Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d reached a neighbor’s property. But if that was the case, why hadn’t anyone else called to report a bloody, hood-wearing stranger? And why hadn’t the cops been able to find his motorcycle? Was there a motorcycle? And was it really broken down?
Exhausted in a way she’d never been before she’d been diagnosed with non-alcoholic fatty liver disease, she finished cleaning up the blood—she didn’t want to see it when she woke up—and went into the house.
Rifle barked and scratched at the mudroom door, whining to be let out. But even now that everyone was gone, he was too excited. She didn’t want to deal with an agitated dog after what she’d already been through. She’d found her pellet gun in the barn, felt that would offer her some defense if the man came back. So she called out a good-night to Rifle, promising she’d take him for a long walk in the morning. Then she used the bathroom off the kitchen and checked all the doors.
Once she was satisfied that the house was as secure as she could make it, she took a final peek through the window, dragged the heavy pellet gun to her bedroom and peeled off her jeans. She was too rattled to sleep almost nude, like she’d been doing earlier, but she knew she’d never get comfortable in fabric as stiff and heavy as denim.
It wasn’t until she’d propped the gun against the wall next to her headboard and crawled beneath the blankets that she heard a noise. She wasn’t sure what it was; it had been too slight. But when it came again her fear returned.
She looked around—eyes wide, breath held—and realized her bathroom door was closed.
She rarely shut that door. It was in the master bedroom and she lived alone. There was never any reason to.
But that wasn’t the only thing that made her heart race. The light was on in there. She could see it through the crack near the floor.
2
Several thoughts went through Callie’s mind at the same time. She had the pellet gun and her cell phone, but her dog was shut in the mudroom. Should she slip out, free Rifle then call the police?
She had to have some way to defend herself until help could arrive. A pellet gun, even a high-powered one, wasn’t the best weapon with which to stop a man. Thanks to a deluge of adrenaline, her limbs felt like rubber. She doubted she’d have the strength to effectively use any weapon, especially a heavy one.
That said yes to the dog. But she wasn’t sure she could stomach what a struggle between Rifle and the intruder would entail. If she’d been told the truth, her visitor had already been attacked by two canines—and he’d beaten them off. She didn’t want to risk Rifle’s life, didn’t want anyone hurt if she could avoid it. Life had become too precious to her. Since her diagnosis, she considered every moment a gift, and she felt that way not just about her own life but everyone else’s.
At least now she understood why her dog had continued to strain at his leash and wouldn’t calm down when they were searching. She’d chalked his behavior up to youth and inexperience, but that wasn’t it at all. He was the only one who could smell, probably even hear, that they still had company.
Sneaking into the house while she and the police were searching the outbuildings was a bold move—so bold she’d never seen it coming. Why had the stranger taken such a risk? Was he so badly hurt he’d had no choice?
Could be.
Or he was determined to gain whatever he wanted from her.
The memory of his blood on the porch, on her bare foot when she stepped in it, weighed heavily on Callie’s mind. If he’d given her AIDS, there wouldn’t be much point in continuing to search for a liver donor....
Sweat poured down her body as she once again slid out of bed and pulled on her jeans. She’d simply vacate the room, take her phone and her gun and barricade herself in the mudroom with her dog while she called the police.
But then she heard a curse, a clatter and a crash that was so loud, her dog started jumping against the door clear on the other side of the house.
What had happened? If Callie had her guess, the man had fallen.
“Hello?” she called out, hesitating midway across the room. She was holding her phone as well as the gun, which made it difficult to use either one.
There was no answer. No sound or movement, either.
Had he hit his head and knocked himself out—or worse?
“Oh, no,” she murmured. In order to lift and aim the gun, she had to put down her phone. She hated to do that, but she was quickly growing more worried than scared, so she set it on her dresser close by. “I know you’re in there.”
“I pretty much...figured that...at this point.” He sounded tired. No, more than tired. Drained. That was hardly what she’d expect from someone who meant her harm. But she’d never encountered a psychopath before—not knowingly, anyway. She had no clue how one might act.
“I’ve got a gun!” she warned.
“Unless you plan...on shooting me for no reason...I don’t really care,” he said. “Just tell me the police are gone.”
Why would she admit she was alone? “They’re not. They’re right outside. I can call them in if necessary.”
There was another long silence.
“Did you hear me?”
“Let them go and I...I’ll leave. I just...needed some soap and water. That’s all. Some gauze would’ve been nice. But you don’t have that. What kind of woman doesn’t have a first-aid kit?”
“I have a first-aid kit. But I don’t keep it the medicine cabinet.”
“Too bad. It would sure...make a nice send-off present, if you...could...forgive my intrusion.”
What condition was he in? He was slurring his words. Talking at all seemed a struggle for him. “How’d you get inside my house?”
“Wasn’t hard. You and those...two officers...”
“Yes?”
He made an attempt to rally. “You were so intent on trying to use your dog to follow my trail I just...circled around behind you. I could tell where you were at all times. Until you brought him in.”
“How’d you keep from dripping blood all over?”
“I wrapped my sweatshirt around my arm...hoped that would help.”
It had done the trick. The trail of blood had disappeared completely. “Sneaking in here takes a lot of nerve,” she said.
“Lady, sometimes you...have to do...what you have to do. What else can I tell you.”
Lady? That made her sound old. She thought of her good friend Cheyenne marrying Dylan Amos just four months ago, right before the doctor had given her the bad news about her liver, and winced. She’d wanted a husband, a family. She’d never had a hint of health problems, no reason to believe she wouldn’t eventually have kids. Now chances were that she’d die before summer’s end.
There were more noises. These Callie couldn’t figure out. “What’s going on?” she asked, worried again.
“I’m trying to get...the hell out of...your bathtub.”
She was beginning to believe this whole night really had been about his injury. “What’s wrong? You can’t?”
“It’d be easier...if I wasn’t so...damn dizzy.”
What was she going to do now? She wasn’t sure she had the heart to call the police on him again. It wasn’t as if he’d waited in her bedroom and attacked her. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me get you some help,” she said. “I tried.”
“No, you called the police.”
“Same thing.”
“Not quite.”
She inched closer. She still held her gun at the ready but she was feeling more and more confident that she wouldn’t have to use it. “Why are you so afraid of the authorities?”
He didn’t respond for a few seconds. Judging by the noise, he was once again trying to get up. “Why do you think?”
“You’re wanted?”
“Not for anything serious.” He cursed as though he’d done something that hurt.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reverted to the question she’d asked before. “I have a few...unpaid speeding tickets.”
That sounded far too innocuous to explain his reaction. Surely it couldn’t be the truth. “You’re lying,” she said. “Why would that make you afraid of the police?”
“We don’t get along.”
“Meaning...”
“I’ve had...a few run-ins with them. They don’t like vagrants. Besides, a warrant is a warrant. Whether it’s for a speeding ticket or...or whatever else, they’ll take you in. I can’t let that happen.”
He’d called himself a vagrant, but he didn’t sound like one. Although she could tell he was in considerable pain, he was mostly coherent. Articulate, too. “Where are you from?”
“Does it matter? Look, if you’ll...help me a minute, I’ll be...on my way.”
“Where?”
“Wherever the road takes me.”
She crept right up to the door. “I thought your motorcycle broke down.”
“I’ll fix it. Believe me...I want to leave as badly as you want me gone. I have to get to my...my ride before someone else comes across it.”
Including the police. No doubt they’d impound it.
She listened for movement but didn’t hear anything. “Are you coming out or not?”
“I think...you’re going to have to come in. Just...whatever you do...keep that dog of yours away.”
“He’s in another room. But I can get him in here pretty darn fast if I need to,” she added.
“I won’t hurt you. Give me some bandages. Then I’ll go.”
Lifting the barrel of the gun so she could reach the knob, Callie pushed the door wide.
Sure enough, the man she’d first spotted on the porch was in her tub. He must’ve stumbled and fallen while trying to clean himself up, because he’d broken the shower curtain rod on the way down. The curtain lay on the floor, stained with blood. Blood speckled the vanity, the floor and the bath mat, too. But that wasn’t what concerned Callie. He didn’t look good. He’d managed to get to his feet, but he was huddled, shivering in nothing but a pair of bloodstained jeans in the corner, where he could use the walls to hold himself up.
Callie felt her jaw drop. “Look at you.”
He seemed to summon what strength he had left. “About that first-aid kit...”
“You need more than a Band-Aid.” About her age, maybe a little younger, he had blood smeared all over him as if he’d swiped here and there to staunch the flow. The hooded sweatshirt he’d been wearing was tied around one arm; his bloody T-shirt lay on the floor not far from the shower curtain. She couldn’t ascertain the injuries on the arm that was covered, but she could see he’d been bitten several times on the arm that was bare.
“You need painkiller, maybe food, a good doctor—and a heck of a lot of sleep.”
He didn’t respond. There was a gray cast beneath his tanned skin. That was probably new. But Callie suspected his gaunt, ravaged look wasn’t. This man was accustomed to living a hard life. His cheekbones were pronounced, testament to the fact that he was too thin, especially since he had such wide shoulders and big hands. And yet...he wasn’t unhandsome. Somehow his rawboned features gave him a rebel air and enhanced the impact of his hazel eyes, which regarded her with the wariness of a wild animal cornered because of injury.
He didn’t trust her any more than she trusted him, she realized.
Lowering the gun, she set it aside. Maybe dropping her guard was the wrong thing to do. Maybe it put her own safety in jeopardy. But she no longer cared in the same, fearful way she had before. Without a functioning liver, she was going to die soon, anyway.
But maybe she could save him.
* * *
The woman was small, even for a woman, and curvy. With platinum-blond hair and big blue eyes, she had a certain...bombshell look about her. Thirty or so, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with no bra. The no-bra part was unmistakable.
“Come here.” She stretched an arm toward him. “Let me help you out of the shower.”
Levi shrank against the tile. There wasn’t any reason for her to touch him. She’d only get blood on her clothes, and he’d caused her enough trouble for one night. “I just need—” he fought the dizziness that made it almost impossible to stay on his feet “—your first-aid kit.”
Somehow he had to stop the bleeding so he could see how bad his injuries were. He could tell that both arms were chewed up, especially his right, which he’d swaddled in his sweatshirt. He’d also been bitten on the back of the neck, his shoulder and his leg in two places. He didn’t know much about the dogs that’d attacked him, wasn’t sure of the breed—it’d been too dark and things happened too fast. The only thing he could say for sure was that he hadn’t been able to outrun them, even after he ditched his bike. When sharp teeth sank into his flesh, he’d been forced to fight. After that it had been a blur of snarling, lunging and gnashing teeth—on his part and that of the dogs.
Fortunately, he’d won. Or they’d all lost. One dog had finally taken a hard enough kick that he didn’t want any more and the other had followed him when he limped away, whining. Levi had done his share of limping, too. It hadn’t been a minor encounter for any of them.
The woman with the smooth complexion and soft, round features still had her hand out. “I’m afraid it can’t be that simple, Mr. McCloud. You need a doctor. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No.” He had no permanent address, no insurance and very little money. Everything he owned was stuffed into the backpack he’d left with his bike, except for the clothes on his back and the wadded-up bills in his pocket. Maybe twenty bucks at the most, it was just enough to buy food until he found his next odd job.
Worry tightened her voice. “How many times were you bitten?”
“Several.” Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the wall. “I’ve never seen animals so intent on tearing someone to pieces.” He winced at the memory. He’d been chased by a few dogs since returning from Afghanistan. Being out on the streets left him vulnerable. But he’d never been attacked. He’d made it through six years in the military, fighting in some of the worst hot spots in the Middle East without taking a bullet, only to be mangled by dogs in his own country.
“My arms took the brunt of it,” he explained. “They wanted the front of my...neck, my jugular, but I kept blocking them. I would’ve been...better off with my leather jacket on. But I’d worked up a sweat pushing my bike and...had taken it off. Bad luck.” He chuckled, but the thought of his bike, his jacket and his pack brought back the concern he’d been feeling earlier. He had to retrieve his belongings before someone stole them or the police came by. He’d had to leave his motorcycle right there on the side of the road, couldn’t continue to push it after the attack. It was too damn heavy.
“Okay, well, at least sit down. You’ll only hurt yourself more if you don’t.”
“I’ve gotta go.” He tried to step out of the tub, nearly toppled over and had to let her help him down onto his ass. Muttering something he couldn’t quite make out, she rolled up a towel she got from a cupboard and put it behind his head. Then she brought in a heavy blanket and covered him, right there in the tub. “Stay put,” she ordered as she tucked it tightly around him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The decisiveness in her voice made him lift his head. “Where are you going?”
“To get the first-aid kit, since that’s all you’ll accept.”
Relieved, he let his head fall back. If she was going to call the police again, she wouldn’t have braved coming in. Surely that meant he’d soon be bandaged up and on his way. He’d walk his bike to the small gold-rush town a few miles back where he’d had dinner and find the necessary parts and tools to make the repairs. Maybe he could offer his services to an auto shop for a few days in trade for what he’d need. He’d done that before. He could fix any kind of engine, had been in charge of the heavy equipment for his platoon in Afghanistan.
Trying to keep his mind off the pain, Levi concentrated on the gas station with the repair bays he’d noticed in town before settling on a café. But he must’ve drifted off despite his efforts to remain lucid, because when he opened his eyes there was another man in the room. He was easily in his seventies, his hair completely gray, and he had a hook nose, full beard and paunch that hung over his belt. He’d removed the blanket that had kept Levi warm, which was what had disturbed him.
The woman who’d covered him was now wearing a bra under her shirt. She wrung her hands as she peered over the old man’s shoulder. “Is he going to be okay?”
Levi didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Where’s the first-aid kit?” he asked, calling her on the deception.
She had the grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry. I was afraid you were going into shock. You need a doctor.”
The other man glanced up at her. “I’m not a doctor.”
She sent Levi an apologetic grin. “But he is a veterinarian.”
“Who’s mostly retired,” the guy said with a note of exasperation.
“Still good at his craft.” She patted his shoulder with obvious affection. “This was my grandfather’s friend and next-door neighbor. Now he’s my friend and neighbor. Godfrey Blume, meet Levi McCloud.”
* * *
“So what do you think?” Callie shooed Rifle out of her way so she could pour the coffee she’d put on a few minutes earlier. Levi McCloud was asleep in her bed, but Godfrey was sitting at her kitchen table.
Every time her neighbor yawned she felt bad about waking him in the middle of the night. He was nearing eighty. But she hadn’t expected providing Mr. McCloud with medical attention to take several hours. She’d been so caught up in helping to wash and bandage his wounds, she hadn’t noticed the passage of time until she saw the break of dawn. Now her rooster was out in the yard, crowing for all he was worth.
She couldn’t help smiling when she caught sight of the old bird strutting past her kitchen window. She loved early mornings. They reminded her of summers with her grandparents and awaking to the smell of frying bacon.
“I did what I could,” Godfrey said. “But I wish he would’ve let us take him to the hospital. Or even to a real doctor. I’ve never seen an attack like that.”
And her neighbor had worked with animals his whole life! She frowned as she set the sugar and cream on the table. “We did what we could.”
“Mr. McCloud is a surprisingly stubborn man, given the extent of his injuries.”
Once Godfrey had ascertained the large number of stitches their patient required, they’d both tried, once again, to get him in her car. Godfrey could only offer him a topical analgesic to ease the pain—and Tylenol. But there was nothing they could do to overcome Mr. McCloud’s resistance. He tried to leave on his own power when they insisted, and would’ve done so if they’d pushed it any further. At that point, Godfrey had relented and agreed that some care was better than none.
“We should report the dogs to animal control,” she said. “They need to be restrained before they hurt someone else—a child, for instance.”
“I plan on looking into it.” Her neighbor had been the only veterinarian in town for most of his life. He’d officially retired three years ago, when the newly licensed Harrison Scarborough opened his practice. But some people still brought their animals to Godfrey.
“Do you have any idea whose pets they might be?” she asked while pouring herself some cranberry juice. She was on a strict diet that precluded alcohol, salt and coffee, among other things.
He smoothed his shirt over his belly. “My bet? There’s a couple of pit bulls down the road, around the bend.”
“Really?” Callie had never seen any, but she’d been pretty preoccupied of late. Adjusting to the shock of her diagnosis, especially since she’d never consumed much booze, hadn’t been easy. She’d thought only alcoholics had to worry about cirrhosis. “You think it’s them?”
“I can’t imagine what other dogs it could be. I know all the rest of the animals in the area, and they wouldn’t do something like what we saw.”
“Whose pit bulls are they?”
“Belong to a couple of young men, maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine, who are renting the old Gruper place. They’re here for the summer, doing some prospecting.”
Gold panning and dredging had become popular pastimes. A lot of tourists visited “the heart of gold country” to relive the history of the ’49er. Coloma, where gold was first discovered in California, was an hour away, but the entire area had been rich in ore. At 5,912 feet, the nearby Kennedy mine was one of the deepest gold mines in the world.
“So you’ve met these men?” she asked.
“Just last week. I was selling my gold dredge. They saw my flyer on the bulletin board at the diner and came over to buy it. I guess they weren’t finding anything using the panning method.”
“Did you like them?”
“Not a bit.” Godfrey spoke with his usual candor, but she’d already guessed his feelings from his sour expression.
“Why not?”
“They’re unruly braggarts with big mouths and no respect. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought they were related to the Amoses.”
The Amoses weren’t as bad as they’d been immediately after their father went to prison. As a matter of fact, she really liked Cheyenne’s husband. But she didn’t mention that she now knew Dylan and cared about him. She didn’t want to veer off topic. “I’m surprised they didn’t hear their dogs growling and barking. You’d think they would’ve gone out to see what was going on.”
He shrugged. “They were probably passed out, drunk.”
“They’re big partiers?”
“That’s the impression they gave me.”
“Great.” She rolled of her eyes. “Just who you want living so close—and with a couple of unsafe pit bulls, too.”
He acknowledged her sarcasm with a tip of his cup. “Fortunately, it’s only for three months.”
Rifle brushed up against her, wanting some attention, so she bent to scratch behind his ears. “Short-timers or no, they still have to keep their dogs from biting people,” she said. “Mr. McCloud could’ve been killed.”
Godfrey sipped his coffee before responding. “I plan on heading over there later.”
Knowing he’d do whatever needed to be done, she changed the subject. “Will Mr. McCloud be okay?”
Her neighbor’s hands were oversize, like her injured guest’s, except that Godfrey’s were also thick. When he was stitching up Levi’s bite wounds, Callie had been impressed by how dexterous his sausagelike fingers could be.
“As long as those bites don’t get infected, he should be. He’ll have a few scars, but I made the stitches very small. That’ll help. In my opinion, he should get a tetanus booster, but he claims he was in the military, that his shots are current.”
“They make sure soldiers stay up on that sort of thing, don’t they?”
“They do. If he was really a soldier.”
Apparently, Godfrey was taking nothing for granted. The people of Whiskey Creek could be suspicious of outsiders. But Callie believed at least that much of McCloud’s story. He had a tattoo on one shoulder depicting an eagle with the word Freedom. A tattoo on the other arm said R.I.P. Sanchez, Williams, Phelps, Smith. The names were in different fonts, as if they’d been added as he’d lost friends.
She preferred not to consider how hard that would be to cope with.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help, G.,” she said, using the nickname her grandfather had given him. Poppy had coined a nickname for everyone. It was usually a shortened version of that person’s first name but Godfrey became a little tricky. Only his wife sometimes teased him by calling him God.
“Happy to help. You know how much Mina and I care about you.” Although his words were kind, he shot her a warning look from beneath his hairy eyebrows that indicated she might not like what was coming next.
“But...” she said, giving him the opportunity to speak his mind.
“But I’m going to stick my nose into your business and tell you that I think you should send this man on his way.”
“I will, of course. As soon as he’s better.”
“I mean as soon as he wakes up.”
Rifle wandered off as she sat down at the table. “G., he just got over a hundred stitches!”
“That’s okay. In a few hours he’ll be able to walk well enough to vacate the premises.”
But how far would he have to go? Godfrey had mentioned infection as if it was a serious concern. Certainly heading off into the wild blue yonder wouldn’t minimize that risk. And what if Levi couldn’t find his motorcycle? For all she knew, the cops had impounded it. Even if the bike was exactly where he’d left it, it wasn’t running. That was the whole reason he’d been in a position to be attacked in the first place. “He needs time to recover.”
“We don’t know anything about him, Callie. We don’t even know if his version of what happened is true. Having him here might not be safe.”
Callie sipped her juice. “But he has no home.” And he had no mode of transportation. “Where will he go?”
“Wherever he was going before he met you.”
His protectiveness wouldn’t allow him to consider any mitigating factors, so she didn’t argue further. “I’ll send him off as soon as I can,” she promised.
Godfrey finished his coffee and got up to bring his cup to the sink. “I’d better go. I’m sure Mina’s wondering where on earth I am.”
“Of course. Thanks again.” When she ushered him out, she put Rifle into the fenced part of the yard so he could get some exercise. Then she returned to the house and stiffened in surprise. Levi McCloud was no longer asleep. He was coming out of her bedroom.
3
“Those clothes were in the tub for a reason,” she said.
Careful not to tear out the stitches in his leg, Levi hobbled toward the door, eyeing the petite blonde who’d given him the help he needed. What was her name? She’d told him last night. Callie something... Anyway, he appreciated what she’d done for him. He also appreciated that she’d kept her word and hadn’t called the police a second time. He doubted there were many women who would’ve taken such a risk and he admired her courage. But he didn’t want her to get in his way now that he was ready to go. “I rinsed out the blood the best I could. I have to get my bike and my backpack,” he explained.
“And if you manage to do that, then what?”
“I’m out of here.” He never stayed in one place long. But how fast he could leave Whiskey Creek would depend on his bike. If the repairs cost more than elbow grease, he could be in trouble. He’d never find work in his current condition. With all the stitches in his arms, he looked pieced together, like Frankenstein’s monster.
“Where’s your backpack?” she asked.
He could smell coffee, wanted a cup but figured he could buy one along the way—provided he found his bike and was able to fix it. “I hope it’s where I left it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Everything,” he said simply. Everything he owned, anyway. That didn’t consist of a lot, but he didn’t need a lot.
She sidled over as if moving slowly would make it less apparent that she was cutting off his path to the door. “If you’ll go back to bed and get some rest, I’ll retrieve your bike.”
She had dark circles under her eyes, looked as tired as he felt. But then, he’d kept her up all night, so that was to be expected. She was still damn pretty. She reminded him of Charlize Theron. Maybe even Marilyn Monroe.
“You don’t know where it is,” he said.
“You could solve that by telling me.”
Her size relative to that of his bike didn’t make her suggestion very plausible. “I had to drop it when the dogs attacked. Even if it’s not in the ditch I was trying to avoid while I was pushing it—which it might be—you wouldn’t be strong enough.”
“But if you exert yourself, you could ruin everything we just accomplished with your stitches!”
She had a point. Medical help wasn’t easy to come by, especially for someone like him. But, as he’d said, she couldn’t lift his bike. “I don’t have any choice.”
She started to argue, to say nothing was worth risking further injury, but he cut her off. “What about the dogs that attacked me? They could still be around, licking their wounds. If they feel anything like I do this morning, they won’t be in a good mood.”
Her confidence seemed to falter. “I don’t have to go alone. I have a friend who could help.”
“A male friend?”
“Yes.”
He hadn’t gotten the impression she was in any kind of serious relationship. He was pretty sure it was just her and her dog living here. She had extra bedrooms but, as she’d mentioned to the vet who’d stitched him up, they were full of storage. The only bed was in her room, and there were no men’s clothes or belongings in there.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t have a boyfriend, however... “Is he a mechanic?” he asked hopefully.
“No. But he has a truck and a trailer. We could load your bike up, bring it here. And I could wash your clothes. You can’t be comfortable in those.”
She obviously thought she’d overcome all objections, but Levi had reason to be worried about one more thing. “What is this male friend going to say when he finds me here—in your bed?”
Folding her arms, she raised her chin. “There’s nothing he can say. This is my house. I make my own decisions.”
That was good news, at least. The last thing he needed was to get into another fight. “Then maybe I should go with the two of you—”
“Rest.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “If you’ll go back to bed, I’ll make buttermilk pancakes for breakfast when I get back.”
He was hungry. And it’d been forever since he’d had a home-cooked meal. His father had had a girlfriend once who could make the best pancakes he’d ever tasted. He missed her, like he missed some of the others who came and went. Pancakes shouldn’t have been much of a draw, but Callie couldn’t have offered anything that would’ve tempted him more.
Well, maybe there was one thing. It had been a long time since he’d had that, too. “Buttermilk pancakes, huh?”
Her lips curved into a smile. “You’ve never had better.”
He studied her, trying to figure out why she was being so nice.
“What?” she said, sounding a bit self-conscious.
“Why aren’t you in more of a hurry to get rid of me?”
Her smile faded. “Maybe it feels good to focus on someone else’s problems for a change.”
* * *
“Let’s go over your plan.” Kyle Houseman, one of Callie’s best friends and part of the clique she’d grown up with since grade school, drove his work truck slowly along the road where Levi said they should be able to find his bike.
“My plan?” Preoccupied with searching the shoulder and the ditch that ran alongside it, Callie wasn’t paying a lot of attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Once we get this vagrant’s bike back to your place. What then?”
She was fairly sure the motorcycle was gone. If not, she would’ve spotted it by now.
“Callie?” Kyle prompted when she didn’t answer.
“Go slower, would you?”
“I’m barely creeping along as it is!” he complained but did as she asked.
“It has to be here.” Pressed up against the harness of her seat belt, she gripped the window ledge as she searched. “If it’s not...I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“He’ll pay a hefty impound fee,” Kyle said.
Would some guy with only the clothes on his back have the money for that? “Someone other than the police could’ve taken it. Maybe it’s been stolen,” she mused. But she thought that would be the worse of the two possibilities.
“If so, his insurance will cut him a check. If he has insurance.”
Kyle had spoken her concerns aloud. She doubted Levi carried any more insurance than was legally required, and liability didn’t cover theft. “I don’t want him to lose his bike.”
Easing the truck over to the side, Kyle waited for a car coming up from behind to get around them. “Why are you so concerned about this guy?”
His surprise irritated her. Having a liver that no longer functioned properly made her look at certain issues differently. For the first time, she wondered how people could be so callous about certain things.
“Why are you not more concerned?” she countered. “We’re talking about a human being who was attacked by dogs. He’s already full of stitches. Doesn’t seem fair that he should lose his only mode of transportation.”
Kyle scowled at the censure in her voice. “There’s no need to overreact. I just don’t think you should get personally involved.”
She blinked at him. “What should I do, then? Throw him out?”
“Why not? He isn’t your responsibility. For all you know, he’s an ex-con. Even if he’s not, he could rob you blind—or worse!”
Before her diagnosis, both possibilities would’ve frightened her so much she probably wouldn’t have taken the chance. But she didn’t feel that way anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t care to enjoy what time she had left. It was more that she wanted to take the opportunity to do good before she was gone.
“He’s not dangerous,” she said.
“You don’t know that, Callie. Even if he isn’t violent, or a thief in the usual sense, he could take advantage of you in other ways—play on your sympathies, sponge off you.”
“He’s not the type.”
“You can recognize the type?”
Levi had been far too eager to handle his own problem with the bike for her to believe he expected her or anyone else to look after him. On the contrary, he gave her the impression that he was determined not to need anyone.
“I won’t have trouble getting rid of him when the time comes,” she insisted.
“You don’t know that, either.”
She met Kyle’s gaze. He cared about her well-being. She trusted that—but there were other issues at play here, too, including, possibly, some jealousy. While trying to help him recover from his divorce a year ago, she’d gotten a little too close and wound up in his bed. After a few isolated incidents, they’d agreed to end all sexual activity. They didn’t want to ruin their friendship. So far, that friendship had lasted more than twenty years.
But since moving to the farm, and knowing she was probably facing the end of her life, Callie had been so terribly lonely she’d slipped back into sleeping with Kyle a few times. “Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend, okay?”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Sounds like it.”
“Some would say I have that right!”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “Oh, come on! You don’t love me in that way, and you know it. You’re still in love with Olivia.”
“Since she’s married now, it doesn’t do me a lot of good.”
Only the fact that she’d married his archrival—who was also his stepbrother—made it worse. “Regardless, I can’t replace her. Even if we both wish otherwise, we’re not in love. We’ve already gone over this.”
“Fine. The motorcycle’s not here. Let’s go back.”
She’d offended him. Sometimes he wanted more from her than other times. She understood. She waffled, too. They cared so much about each other that it was natural to question why they couldn’t be even closer, why that added romantic element had never been there, especially since they’d turned out to be so sexually compatible.
“I want to keep looking. Could you please make another pass?” she asked.
Clearly not happy, he swung the truck around and began creeping down the road again. When they reached the Gruper rental, Callie peered into the yard, hoping to see the pit bulls Godfrey had mentioned and whether the animals showed evidence of having been in a fight. But the house looked empty of both man and beast.
Kyle broke into her thoughts. “How old is he?”
“Who?”
“This guy who showed up at your house last night. Who else?”
She’d been thinking about the renters. “His name’s Levi McCloud.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m guessing he’s our age. Why?”
“Just curious.” He turned down the radio. “What does he look like?”
He was handsome. There was no question about that. But Kyle wouldn’t want to hear it. Not in his current frame of mind. He had to be going through a difficult period if he was acting so possessive of her. “He’s about six-two, has blond hair slightly on the long side in front, hazel eyes and a few military tattoos. What does it matter?”
“I’m wondering if attraction is part of whatever you’re feeling about him.”
Another comment that seemed motivated by jealousy. She ignored it. “Can you pull over?”
“Here?”
“At that house we just passed.” She indicated the rental.
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to ask if anyone’s seen a motorcycle on the side of the road.”
“Who lives here?” he asked as he backed up.
“According to Godfrey, a couple of guys who’ve come to Whiskey Creek to do some prospecting for the summer.”
“You’ll just go up and knock?”
“Why not?”
“Because it seems to me that we’ve done enough.”
She covered a yawn. The night was catching up with her. These days she didn’t have a lot of strength to begin with. “This won’t take long.”
Kyle pulled into the driveway and let the engine idle.
Before leaving the safety of the truck, Callie whistled, just in case. When no dogs came running, she climbed out and approached the dilapidated porch.
The blinds were down, so she couldn’t see inside. Listening for sounds of movement, she knocked.
No one came to the door.
They were gone, as she’d guessed. She was on her way around back when Kyle called out to her.
“Callie, come on! No one’s home.”
She raised a finger to signal that she’d be just another second. She wanted to see if these men might have taken Levi’s bike and rolled it out of sight. But she found no sign of that. She even checked in the detached, one-car garage.
Nothing, except the dredging machine they must have purchased from G. and buckets upon buckets of sediment and rock.
Disappointed, she was walking back when she spotted some bloody paw prints leading to the mudroom.
Aha! She’d found the offending dogs, after all—or where the offending dogs lived.
Eager to tell Kyle that she’d accomplished something, she almost missed the dirty, chewed-up backpack partially hidden by bushes. It appeared to be military issue, which made her think it had to be the one Levi lost when he dropped his bike.
“Are you coming?” Kyle called.
After scooping it up, she returned to the truck and tossed it in the bed. “Let’s go.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her as she got in. “Did you just steal that?”
“I’m guessing it belongs to Levi.”
“But you don’t know.”
“We’ll see soon enough. I can always return it.”
* * *
The second Levi joined them in the living room Kyle could see that he had indeed suffered a traumatic dog attack. He had stitches in both arms, even in one leg. But Kyle couldn’t feel much sympathy. He was too worried about the threat this man might pose to Callie. Judging by the wariness in Levi’s eyes, those bites weren’t the only injuries he’d ever sustained. Kyle was willing to bet he carried some significant battle scars on the inside, too.
Callie had said he’d been in the military. Maybe he’d seen some action. Kyle supposed he could be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. He wouldn’t be the first vet to struggle with what he’d been through.
“Levi, this is Kyle Houseman.” Callie gestured between them.
Lean but sinewy, Levi offered his hand. He was an inch or two taller than Kyle and, Kyle guessed, two or three years younger. He seemed brooding, watchful and a bit standoffish, even while wearing Callie’s bathrobe, which should’ve made him look ridiculous. Instead, the pink terry cloth created a stark contrast between her size and his, her optimism and innocence and the cynicism of a jaded warrior. It also reminded Kyle of the wolf donning Grandma’s mobcap in Little Red Riding Hood.
Would he have to play the part of the woodcutter?
“Nice robe,” he said.
Levi lowered his hand when Kyle didn’t accept it, but he didn’t scramble to explain or apologize, as most guys who were so out of place probably would. “Would you rather I went without it?”
Kyle wasn’t pleased with Mr. McCloud’s response. But he was the one who’d set the tone. What had evolved between him and Callie put Kyle in a difficult situation. Their relationship was so complicated that he often lay awake at night, trying to figure out what should happen now that they’d slept together. “I’m wondering where your clothes are.”
Levi jerked his head in Callie’s direction. “Ask your friend.”
“They were torn and bloody!” Obviously rattled by what had already been said, Callie could hardly find her voice. “I’m washing them.”
Kyle grinned as if he’d been joking the whole time. “Right. Of course. Then it’s a good thing that robe fits as well as it does.”
A muscle flexed in Levi’s cheek. “I’m not after your woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His blatant honesty took Kyle off guard. “She’s not my woman. But I care about her. I want to be clear on that.” He also wanted to put McCloud on notice that she wasn’t as defenseless as it might seem, even though she was keeping Rifle outside in deference to what her guest had been through.
“All I want is my bike.” At that point, Levi turned to Callie. “Did you find it?”
When she shot him a dirty look, Kyle knew she wasn’t pleased with how he’d handled the situation.
“No. Sorry to say I didn’t,” she told Levi. “We’ll have to call the police, see if they impounded it.”
“But you brought my backpack.”
She stepped out of the way so he could get to the tattered canvas pack Kyle had set inside the front door. “Yes. It was at the house closest to where you said you were attacked. But it’s filthy. I think the dogs took out their residual anger on what you left behind.”
While bending to pick up his belongings, McCloud glanced at them from beneath the hank of blond hair hanging in his eyes and Kyle was again struck by the fact that this was not your typical vagrant. He was too handsome, too young—and he seemed very capable.
Kyle could only hope he wasn’t capable of violence.
“I thought it had to be a neighbor’s dogs,” Levi said. “I couldn’t have walked too far from where it happened.”
“Those dogs don’t belong to my neighbor, exactly,” Callie said. “They belong to whoever is temporarily staying in that house. Godfrey told me two guys are renting it. He said they have pit bulls.”
“That explains a lot—about size and strength.”
“You certainly weren’t dealing with poodles,” she said.
The way she seemed to be pandering to him bothered Kyle.
“Did you see them?” Levi asked her.
“I didn’t. But I discovered some bloody paw prints. That’s what tipped me off.”
There was blood on the bag, too. Kyle had ascertained that much when he carried it in. “Did you injure either of the dogs?” he asked.
Levi shrugged. “I tried. It was me or them.” He unzipped his pack and pulled out a pair of jeans and a
T-shirt. “Good news, Mr. Houseman.” He held them up. “I can get out of your girlfriend’s robe.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.” Callie’s words reiterated what Kyle had already said, but Levi ignored them. When he turned, presumably to go change, she stopped him. “Why put those clothes on over your stitches? You’ll just get ointment on them, and that stuff won’t come out easily. You need to eat and go back to bed. You can dress later.”
He gave her a pointed look. “Thank you, but I’ll decide what I need to do,” he said, and disappeared into the bedroom.
As soon as he was gone, Kyle guessed he was going to get harangued by Callie, so he went on the offensive. “That was rude what he just said to you.”
Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into the kitchen. “What he said? You started it!” she whispered. “You were all but banging on your chest.”
Kyle lowered his voice. “Maybe I could’ve been friendlier. But you’re being friendly enough for both of us. That man has issues, Callie.”
“Most vagrants do!” she responded. “That’s why they don’t have homes, why they aren’t with their families!”
“Exactly! So don’t tell me you’re still going to let him stay!”
She released his arm. “What else can I do?”
“Have him go somewhere different...”
“Like?”
He considered his own circumstances. “I’ve got my sister and her kids at my place.”
“I doubt he’d be willing to go home with you, anyway. It’s not as if you were nice to him!”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he grumbled.
When she tilted up her chin, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “He hasn’t asked for anything—except some bandages to stop the bleeding. The rest has been my doing.”
Kyle felt bad for not having more sympathy. He should’ve at least shaken hands. But, homeless or not, McCloud wasn’t the type of man who inspired pity. He was too remote, too mysterious and probably too angry. “He’ll be fine.”
“He has nowhere to go until he gets his motorcycle fixed.”
“So I’ll pay for a room at Little Mary’s B and B for a few days. That’ll solve it.”
She got the buttermilk from the fridge. “He won’t take your money.”
“How do you know?”
“Try offering and see for yourself.”
He didn’t answer because he believed her.
“Anyway, there’s no need to go that far,” she said. “We can manage right here.”
Kyle came up behind her. “He looks strong, despite his injuries, Callie. Doesn’t that intimidate you?”
“I have to go sometime, Kyle.”
Had he heard her correctly? She’d never said anything like that before. “That’s a weird comment. How can you be so cavalier?” He slouched into a chair. “Do you realize how much damage a man like that could do to a woman like you if he decides to cause trouble?”
“A woman like me?”
“Someone who weighs barely one hundred pounds?”
“He’s already had several chances to hurt me. He could’ve broken in last night instead of knocking on the door. He could’ve attacked me after I found him in the bathroom. Or maybe not—he was pretty hurt,” she said. “But if he was intent on rape or murder, he could’ve stopped me before I called you this morning. He was feeling stronger by then.”
“Just because he hasn’t hurt you yet doesn’t mean he won’t. Maybe he has a low frustration tolerance. Maybe you haven’t done anything to piss him off.”
“He’s in pain. From the dog attack and possibly other things. Something sent him out on the road. I get the feeling that all he wants is to be left alone.”
Kyle glanced over his shoulder to make sure they still had their privacy. “Fine. But it’s summer, plenty warm out. At least have him sleep in your uncle’s old room in the barn.”
She nodded. “I’ll have to. I only have one bed.”
“And once you find his bike and get the damn thing fixed, send him on his way!”
Standing on tiptoe, she reached for the flour. “I don’t think I’ll have to ask him to leave.”
A noise made them turn. Levi was there, wearing the clothes he’d pulled from his backpack, which looked clean. “I guarantee it,” he said.
4
Breakfast was awkward. Callie wished Kyle would go home. She didn’t like the skeptical way he kept looking at Levi, and she was sure Levi didn’t like it, either. He bowed his head over his plate as he ate. Then he thanked her and asked if he could use her phone.
After she handed him her cell, he walked into the living room and she and Kyle cleared the table.
“Don’t worry about the dishes,” she said. Levi’s voice carried back to them but they couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“I’ll help.”
She guessed Kyle was feeling contrite for behaving so boorishly. “What’s up with you today?” she asked. “You glared at Levi all through breakfast.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I know. I couldn’t seem to stop. It’s because I was already worried about you—and now this.”
Pretending to be absorbed in her work, she averted her gaze. She hated lying to those she loved but wasn’t ready to handle the alternative. “I don’t know why you’d worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Fine? You haven’t been yourself since you moved here.”
“Of course I’ve been myself.” She’d done her best to go on as if nothing catastrophic had happened but, of course, there were bound to be changes. Hearing that she had only six months left, that this summer would be her last, still wasn’t easy to cope with.
“No. You’re quieter. Reflective. Withdrawn. You don’t spend much time at the studio anymore, and you were there all the time before. I can’t figure out what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said firmly. “My assistant is taking care of Reflections. That gives me a chance to live here, on the farm, like I’ve always wanted to, before my parents sell it. It’s my way of saying goodbye to the place.”
He obviously wasn’t convinced. “You loved living in town, loved being in the middle of everything. And you were so determined to build your business. Then you went...AWOL.”
“I haven’t gone AWOL. I’m tired of doing weddings. I want to be able to photograph nature and help my parents, too. This is my opportunity.”
He studied the black-and-white photograph mounted on canvas that hung on her wall. She’d managed to capture a large, hairy spider spinning a web out in the barn. The texture of the old wood came through so clearly. And she loved the shadow of the web on the ground. It was competition material. She knew it. Finally, she was taking artistic photographs—but she wasn’t sure she’d be around to reap the rewards.
“So how are you making a living?” he asked. “I know your parents are giving you a little to get this place shaped up before they list it, but that can’t be enough to cover your monthly expenses.”
“Actually, the studio’s booked for the season and I no longer have to pay rent on my old apartment. I’m better off than before.”
“The business hasn’t suffered without you there?”
“Not as much as you’d expect.” Autumn might prove to be a different story, but autumn might not matter. One day at a time... “Tina’s talented. I trained her well.”
“If she’s that talented she’ll break out on her own someday.”
She wouldn’t have to. Callie planned to leave her the business. And she planned to leave Kyle her dog. Those were the only two things she had to give away, except her SUV, but that came with a monthly payment. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“So you’re happy?”
The way he looked at her begged her to be honest with him, so she almost came out with the truth about her liver. She didn’t want to hurt her friends and family by dying suddenly when she could’ve given them some warning.
But neither did she want to trade her final months for what sharing her secret would mean. Once everyone knew, she’d be the recipient of their pity. She’d have to live with their sadness as well as her own. And she’d have to respond to all that grief and concern with some polite phrase that showed courage in the face of bitter disappointment. She wasn’t sure she was capable of being as brave as that required. Not yet.
Besides, her mother would want to take care of her, would pressure her to move home, and she wasn’t ready. The doctors had given her until the end of summer. She wanted to enjoy as much of that time as possible.
Chances were good she wouldn’t die suddenly, anyway. First she’d become too ill to take care of herself. At that point, she’d come out with it. But right now, the medication her doctor prescribed kept her fairly healthy, if she was careful to eat right, get plenty of rest and manage her stress. It even kept her from looking jaundiced.
“I’m happy,” she insisted.
“So it’s not me. It’s not that we’ve...been together?”
“No.” She smiled as she touched his face. “I know you’d marry me if I wanted you to. You already married another girl just because you slept with her.” She was teasing. Their entire group teased Kyle about Noelle. First she’d used her pregnancy to get him to propose. Then she’d aborted the baby without consulting him when he wouldn’t buy her the mansion she wanted. It was the most astonishing act of spite Callie had ever seen. She still couldn’t bear to look at Noelle, who was once again working at A Damsel’s Delights, a clothing and handmade-jewelry boutique in town.
Fortunately for Kyle, that episode of his life was over. Callie thought it was also fortunate for him that she’d given up on love and marriage; she had no expectations where he was concerned. She didn’t have time to start a family. Even if she found the right man, she wouldn’t want to get romantically involved, wouldn’t want to hurt a partner by dragging him through what could easily turn out to be her death.
“The change in you...it happened about the time we first slept together,” Kyle pressed.
No, it had happened precisely six weeks after. They’d both drunk a little too much and slept together on New Year’s Eve. During the next four weeks she’d begun feeling poorly—tired, nauseous, feverish. She’d assumed she had the flu but the symptoms wouldn’t go away. Then she became jaundiced and, before people could start to remark on it, she’d decided to drive to Sacramento and get checked out at a twenty-four-hour medical center. She must’ve had some inkling that it was serious, or she wouldn’t have gone to such pains to avoid the local doctor. Still, it was a bombshell when, on Valentine’s Day, a physician from that clinic called with the news.
When she didn’t speak, Kyle said, “I can’t help but assume it’s what we’ve done that—”
“Kyle, you have nothing to worry about,” she broke in. “There’s no blame here. I want you to remember that, okay?”
She’d grown too serious. Her intensity made him even more suspicious, but before he could respond, Levi returned with her phone. Hearing his tread on the scarred wooden floor of the old kitchen, she whirled around to face him. “Any luck?”
When his eyes shifted from her to Kyle, Callie felt herself blush. She feared he already understood more about what was going on between them than the group they socialized with so often.
“The police have it,” he said. “They picked it up probably an hour before you got there.”
“Too bad I missed it. But at least it wasn’t stolen.” She didn’t ask how much the impound fees would be. She doubted he had the money to pay them and didn’t want to put him on the spot in front of Kyle. Besides, she felt partially responsible for his loss, since she was the one who’d told the officers about it.
“I’ve got to get back to work.” Kyle looked at Levi. “Want me to drive you to the impound lot?”
Levi shook his head. “No need. I’m not ready to go there yet. But if you’re heading toward town, I’ll hitch a ride as far as you’re going.”
He wasn’t asking for any special consideration. That seemed to soften Kyle up. “I can take you wherever you’d like to go.”
With barely a wince to give away what the movement cost him, Levi hauled his bag over his shoulder as if he might not be coming back. “I saw a gas station a few miles back.”
“The Gas-N-Go?” Kyle said.
He nodded. “Anywhere close to that will be fine.”
Finished with the dishes, Callie dried her hands. “What are you planning to do there?”
“Find work,” he said, and turned away.
She stopped him. “You can’t work! Not yet. You’re covered in stitches.”
He didn’t seem to think that mattered. “I’ll live.”
“Wait.” She sent Kyle a glance that warned him not to interfere. “I could use some help around here.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Doing what?”
“My parents want to sell the place. I told them I’d get it in shape.”
“Which would include...”
She could tell she’d caught his interest. “I’ve been meaning to repair and paint the barn, for one thing.” Her parents had bought the paint; she just hadn’t felt strong enough to get up on a ladder. She’d been considering hiring someone, anyway. The place had sat empty for so long there were plenty of other projects for her to do. Just keeping up with her gardening and photography seemed to be a full-time job. “If you’ll provide the labor, I’ll provide room and board until you finish. I’ll also front the money to retrieve your motorcycle and get it fixed.”
He adjusted the bandages covering the stitches on his right arm. “How do you know I won’t take advantage? That I won’t fix my motorcycle and leave before I ever paint the barn?”
“Will you?” she asked, but she figured there could be worse things. Liver failure had a way of putting smaller disappointments in perspective.
There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “No. Where’s the paint?”
She chuckled. “You’re not in any shape to start quite yet. And the fees on that motorcycle are only going to go up the longer we leave it. Let’s get that taken care of first.”
* * *
Levi kept quiet while Callie drove to the impound lot in Kyle’s truck with his trailer lagging behind. The silence stretched on so long it began to feel oppressive, so she made an attempt at small talk. “Last night you said you’d been in the military. Where’d you serve?”
When he glanced over, she could see him weighing whether or not he wanted to engage in this conversation.
“Is where you served classified information?” She grinned, trying to tempt him into lowering his guard, but he didn’t even crack a smile.
“It’s pointless to go through the usual rituals. We won’t know each other long enough for any of it to matter.”
“It’ll take a week to finish the barn, and that’s only if you’re a fast worker. So humor me.”
“Fine.” He shrugged. “Afghanistan.”
“That must’ve been tough.”
No response, but she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about such a difficult post.
“Where are you from?”
“Seattle.”
“Do you have family there?”
He wasn’t looking at her. He’d gone back to staring out the window. “Some.”
“A wife? Kids?” She’d seen no ring on his finger, but she knew that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t committed.
A muscle jumped in his cheek, giving her the impression that she’d just struck a nerve.
“Neither,” he said, the word falling like an ax.
Curious as to why he’d be sensitive on this subject, she asked, “So you’ve been married?”
It took him a few seconds to answer, but eventually he managed another word. “No.”
“Neither have I.” She leaned forward to catch his eye. “In case you were wondering.”
He made no comment, which led her to believe he hadn’t been wondering—or wasn’t willing to admit it if he was. He’d have to open up if he was going to ask any questions about her, and that would risk her asking even more questions about him.
“Wow, you’re really easy to talk to,” she said.
His eyes flicked her way.
“I’m afraid they won’t release my bike.”
“The impound lot? Why wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t have my license or registration.”
Considering his situation, this didn’t really surprise her. But it did create a problem. ID was usually required. “So what’s your plan?”
“I don’t know. It’s my bike. If we pay the fine, they’d better give it to me.”
Callie didn’t want any problems. “You didn’t...steal it, did you?”
He gave her a look that nearly shriveled her on the spot. “No. Just because I don’t have the registration with me doesn’t mean I stole it.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. He seemed too forthright to be a theif. “I have a friend who tows for this yard. Actually, it’s the brother of a friend. I bet Joe can arrange it.”
This seemed to ease some of his tension. “You think so?”
“It’s a small town. We can work it out.” She loosened her seat belt to give her a bit more breathing room. “So what brings you to California?”
“Figured this was as good a place as any.”
She had so many loved ones she couldn’t imagine taking to the road, trading her relationships with them for a series of roadside diners and two-bit hotels—even if she was well.
“Does your family know you’re here?” Who’d been part of his life? And where had they gone? Did they miss him? Care about him?
Again, there was a slight delay in his answer. “I haven’t talked to them in some time.”
Why? She wanted to ask, but no amount of effort on her part seemed capable of breaching the walls he’d thrown up. Because he wouldn’t engage in this conversation, it seemed more like an interrogation.
Convinced that she was wasting her time, Callie let it go. She wasn’t necessarily looking for a friend. She had plenty of those. She was just trying to be one. But being a friend didn’t have to include badgering him into revealing his situation. She could live and let live. After all, she had her own secrets.
Adjusting the volume on the radio, she fell silent and expected that silence to last—until he spoke.
“That guy, Kyle.”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “What about him?”
“You’re sleeping with him, right?”
Fortunately, the impound lot was coming up. “Kyle’s a long story,” she said, and turned into the drive.
* * *
At the farm, the sun bore down on Levi, reminding him of Kandahar in July. In reality, this day, which was somewhere around ninety degrees, was mild by comparison. He’d never felt what the word swelter meant until he’d experienced one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree temperatures in the desert half a world away—while wearing an army uniform and fifty pounds of gear. Still...the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun brought back memories. Once again, he could taste the gritty dust that clogged his nose and throat, the salt of his own sweat, the fatigue of intense exertion. He could also hear the Pashto spoken in the market they policed. Afghanistan had been unlike any place he’d ever visited or previously imagined, but he hadn’t disliked being there. Not in the beginning. Joining the army provided an escape from his father, which had considerably improved his life.
Besides, at nineteen and freshly graduated from high school, he’d been so idealistic and full of patriotism he’d been eager to face any challenge. He’d just had no idea what those challenges would entail—or how smiling at a pretty girl could turn out to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
“Are you thirsty?”
Grateful for the interruption, he raised a hand to block the sun. Callie was standing there, holding a glass of iced tea, but for a moment he thought he saw Behrukh in her shami dress and hijab—the way he’d first seen her in her father’s store—and his chest constricted.
“Levi? Are you okay?”
The vision cleared. This wasn’t Afghanistan. And Callie looked nothing like Behrukh, who’d been tall and thin with the characteristic dark hair and eyes of her people.
“Fine.” In some ways, he was better than fine. The impound lot hadn’t given him any trouble about releasing his bike. The guy there had chatted with Callie, flirted a bit and taken a call from her friend Joe, who vouched for him, and that was it. Hooking an arm around one knee, he sat up and accepted the glass she handed him.
“It’s too soon for you to be working. I wish you’d get some rest.”
“I’m okay.” He took a long drink, letting the cool, sweet liquid soothe his parched throat.
“Have you figured out what’s wrong with your bike?”
He motioned toward it with his glass. “Carburetor’s jammed. I should also change the spark plugs.”
“Will that be expensive?”
“Not too bad, since I can do the work myself.”
“Do you need parts?”
He squinted against the sun. He was feeling a bit light-headed. Maybe it was time to knock off. While he’d been tearing apart the engine of his motorcycle, Callie had been bringing fresh bedding from the house to the barn, where she said there was a room with a tiny bathroom in one corner. She’d apologized for the fact that he wouldn’t have any heat or air-conditioning, but it was mild here this time of year, especially at night. He didn’t mind making do. That had become his pattern for life. Right now, just getting out of the sun and into the shade would help.
“I need the plugs, maybe a few other things. I’ll know more when I finish here. But...maybe we can go tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I’m glad to hear you say it can wait. I made some beef Stroganoff. My grandmother’s recipe. Why don’t you get showered and come in for dinner?”
There didn’t seem to be any need to keep pushing himself. He wasn’t in a hurry. He liked the farm. It was isolated enough that, besides Callie, he didn’t have to run into other people.
“Okay.”
“My uncle installed an instant water heater for the bathroom in the barn,” she explained, “so you should have plenty of hot water, but the shower’s tiny and not much to look at. I put some towels out there.”
“Thank you.” Fortunately, Callie, the one person he did see here, wasn’t difficult to be around. After that conversation in the car, she’d stopped prying into his past. He got the feeling she understood that he didn’t want to talk about himself and wouldn’t push him again. Since they’d returned home, she’d left him to his own devices, and that felt almost comfortable.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and started back to the house.
“Callie?”
She pivoted to face him.
“Why are you helping me?”
Her eyebrows slid up. “I want the barn painted, remember?”
“You could hire a handyman. It doesn’t have to be some stranger who’s been attacked by dogs. Your boyfriend could even do it on the weekends.”
She didn’t bother protesting the status he’d assigned to Kyle. She didn’t seem to want to touch that subject, no matter when he brought it up. The way she’d answered his only question in the car led him to believe that she valued her privacy as much as he did. “You’ve got something I need, and I’ve got something you need. That makes it a fair trade for both of us.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why? You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t want to owe anyone.” He didn’t want to feel any obligation or gratitude, either. He didn’t want to feel anything—except the sun on his face and the wind in his hair.
“It’s a fair trade, like I said. That means we’ll be even.”
When he nodded, she walked into the house and he got up to take a shower. She’d said all the right things—but he had a feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he could wind up owing her a lot.
5
Dinner was delicious. Levi ate more than he had in a single meal for months. He probably should’ve stopped Callie when she kept ladling Stroganoff onto his plate, but he was enjoying it too much to protest. Unlike some of the other soldiers, he wasn’t one to complain about the food served in the canteen. It’d tasted better than any he’d known previously. His father had been so determined to make an MMA champion out of him, and to use that success to build the reputation of his dojo, that comfort foods and junk food weren’t allowed. No pizza, fries or greasy burgers. No gravies, no soda, no cookies or candy or cupcakes. He’d been in training almost since he was a toddler, had been raised on vegetables and lean protein. And steroids.
But Levi had flushed them down the toilet more often than not. Given the cost of those drugs, his father would’ve beaten him to within an inch of his life if he’d ever found out—there were certainly beatings for lesser crimes—but Levi definitely didn’t want to turn out like his old man. He often wondered if Leo would’ve been a little less vicious without all the performance-enhancing drugs he’d taken to build up his own body.
Levi expected Callie to try and strike up another conversation. Normal people talked over dinner. But, apparently, she’d figured out that he preferred to be left to his own thoughts because she didn’t say anything. Only the click of their utensils and an occasional “Would you like some more iced tea?” broke the silence.
“That was the best,” he said when he’d finished.
She’d already gotten up and gone to the sink. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to say even that much. “Thank you.”
When he didn’t leave, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “Feel free to go out and get some sleep.”
He was on his own? That easily?
At first, Levi felt relieved that she demanded so little. He was tired and sore, and he had a terrible headache. But he couldn’t walk out without doing something to show his gratitude. Where would he be without her? His wounds had been stitched up, he had his bike, he had a full belly and a bed for the night. That was a lot to accept without giving in return. He hadn’t even been good company.
He hadn’t been good company to anyone for a long time....
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
The setting sun cast shadows across the kitchen; she hadn’t yet turned on the lights. “I’d like to repay you in some way, if I could.”
“Painting the barn’s enough.”
He gathered up their glasses and silverware. He could at least do the dishes. She was looking pretty tired. When she thought he wasn’t paying attention, she’d lean on the counter or hang her head as if she needed to regain her breath.
“I’ll do it,” she said, taking what he held. “It’s not a big job. And you haven’t had much sleep, considering what happened last night.”
He couldn’t quite figure out why she was going so easy on him, why she was allowing him to stay. “You’re sure?”
She smiled. “Positive.”
For a second, he wondered if something more than fatigue could be wrong with her, but then he decided it was the odd lighting that made her look so pale.
“Okay.” He left the dishes to her but didn’t go directly to the barn. He went into her bathroom so he could wipe up the mess he’d made there last night when he was bleeding. He’d been meaning to do it all day, but he’d been too drugged with whatever sleeping pills the vet had given him while stitching him up. Then he’d met Kyle, slept while they went looking for his bike because he could hardly stand, gone with Callie himself and, when they returned, started tinkering with his engine. Now he saw that it was too late. She’d already cleaned up.
The shower curtain he’d pulled down had been washed and was neatly folded on the back of the toilet. He must’ve bent the rod, since it was gone.
Making a mental note to see about fixing what he’d broken—so he wouldn’t leave her any worse off than he’d found her—he headed out. But the place suddenly seemed too quiet. He glanced toward the kitchen to see why he couldn’t hear Callie doing dishes anymore and spotted her through the doorway.
It looked as if she was clutching the edge of the table so she wouldn’t topple over.
The creak of the floor must’ve given away his approach. She straightened and turned. “You’re still here?”
He ignored the question. “Are you okay?”
“Of course!” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I just...ate too much and...it gave me a cramp.”
Not entirely convinced, he waited to see if she’d venture another explanation. What she’d said so far didn’t quite match what he saw in her face. But when she left it at that, he could only accept her response. He couldn’t see why she’d have any reason to lie, but he also couldn’t see how whatever pain she felt could be related to too much food. From what he could remember, she hadn’t eaten anything.
* * *
Rifle woke Callie for the second night in a row. Nerves jangled, she thought her dog was still reacting to Levi’s presence. She’d been in bed for over an hour, although it was only ten o’clock. She’d barely drifted off. Maybe Levi couldn’t sleep and had gotten up to work on his bike. There was a light in the barn if he chose to use it.
But she couldn’t imagine he felt good enough to do that. And she couldn’t understand why Levi’s moving around would bother Rifle. So far, she’d limited contact between man and dog. The way Levi watched Rifle, as though he might have to defend himself at a moment’s notice, confirmed that he was now, if he hadn’t been before, leery of such a powerful animal. She had, however, introduced them, so that if they did come into contact there wouldn’t be any problems. Once Rifle realized that she welcomed Levi’s presence, he did, too. He’d even wagged his tail and tried to lick Levi’s hand when Levi came in for dinner.
So what was going on?
Throwing off the covers, she got out of bed and dragged her pellet gun into the living room. She couldn’t completely ignore Kyle’s warnings. Levi, or anyone else, could be capable of far worse than she’d ever want to believe. He certainly wouldn’t be the first person to turn on someone who’d merely been trying to help.
But it wasn’t Levi who’d set the dog off.
Headlights bore down on the front of the house, and the engine of a truck continued to rumble as a door opened and shut. Although it was late for Godfrey to be out, Callie guessed he’d stopped by to tell her what he’d discovered on the pit bulls. She’d left him a message earlier, detailing what she’d found at the rental, so she’d been expecting him to get back to her with an update.
She almost opened the door, but then whoever approached called out to someone else. “Get your lazy ass out of the truck and come up here.”
That voice definitely didn’t belong to Godfrey....
The passenger door opened and slammed as Callie stood at the front window. Because of the glare, she couldn’t make out who’d come to visit. It wasn’t as if she had the benefit of streetlights. Out here, there was no lighting at all, except the moon and stars, and tonight the moon wasn’t more than a thin silver smile.
The first man knocked as his companion joined him on the front stoop.
Gripping the pellet gun, Callie moved to the peephole and peered out. As she’d already surmised, she had two male visitors, neither of whom she recognized. “Who is it?”
“Denny Seamans and Powell Barney,” came the answer.
“Who?” she muttered to Rifle. She’d never heard of a Denny or a Powell. “It’s a little late to be out visiting,” she called above Rifle’s resounding bark.
“We’re not out visiting.”
“Then what can I do for you?”
“You can explain why the hell that old guy Godfrey Blume showed up at the vet’s today and had my dogs taken away by animal control.”
Denny and Powell were the Gruper renters.
Lowering the pellet rifle, Callie unlocked and opened the door.
The men were very obviously bodybuilders. About five feet nine inches, they had shaved heads to go with an overabundance of muscle and looked like twins, despite the differences in their facial features and last names.
“In case Godfrey didn’t already explain,” Callie began, “your dogs attacked a man who was pushing his motorcycle past—”
The first guy exploded before she could finish. “That’s bullshit!”
Callie didn’t know if it was Denny or Powell until he gestured at his companion.
“Tell her, Powell. Tell her Sauron and Spike would never do that.”
“They wouldn’t.” Powell shook his head as if it was a foregone conclusion. “I’ve been around those dogs a whole year. They’ve never caused any problems.”
Sauron’s name suggested he’d be capable of anything. The only other place Callie had heard that name before was in The Lord of the Rings. Sauron was the villain, which she suspected Denny knew. But she didn’t comment on that. He had the right to call his dog anything he wanted. Besides, the size of these men made her nervous. So did their attitudes.
She gripped her gun tighter, in case she had to raise it. She doubted a pellet would do much against the armor of all that beefcake—especially because she’d be lucky to squeeze the trigger once before the man who didn’t get shot took the gun away—but she figured it was better than nothing. “Then you need to tell that to the authorities. You have no reason to be standing on my doorstep.”
“According to Godfrey Blume, we do. You’re the one who’s saying otherwise. Seems your word is gold in this town.”
She couldn’t help reacting to his sarcasm. “Because they know I wouldn’t lie.”
“That’s why we’re here. It’s you we have to convince. You need to stop what you started, or I’m going to lose my dogs.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t change what they did. No one wins in these situations, least of all the animals. But I saw the results of what happened. You can’t tell me they didn’t attack.”
“It isn’t what you think!” Denny argued. “It’s not like they went after that drifter without reason. He tried to sleep in our garage. That’s trespassing. And my dogs just did what any guard dog would.”
Levi had to find somewhere to sleep at night. Given his situation and the late hour, their story might’ve been plausible. Except the police found his bike on the side of the road, halfway in the ditch, right where Levi said he’d dropped it. And when she’d been at the Gruper rental earlier, she’d seen no blood in the garage—only on the driveway leading to the back porch, suggesting the incident had occurred off-site, and then the dogs had trotted home.
“That’s not true,” she said.
The way she’d challenged his explanation didn’t sit well with Denny, who came off as the more aggressive of the two. “How the hell would you know?” His face, with its wide nose, jutted forward. “You weren’t there.”
These men didn’t act at all concerned that their dogs had mangled someone. All they cared about was the possibility of their own loss.
“I was at your place this morning,” she said. “I saw the bloody paw prints, Mr. Seamans. They weren’t in the garage.”
Denny’s eyes narrowed to a razor-sharp point. “You went on to my property?”
“I knocked first. You didn’t answer.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to snoop around!”
Rifle growled when Denny raised his voice, but Denny seemed too angry to care. Maybe he trusted her to hold the dog off. “Because of you, they’re going to put down two innocent pit bulls!”
“Because of me?” Callie echoed. “You mean because you allowed your dogs to injure someone!”
“I didn’t even know it was happening!”
“They’re still your responsibility. A child couldn’t have survived that attack. You didn’t see the number of stitches it took to repair what your ‘innocent’ Sauron and Spike did!”
“The stupid bastard they bit shouldn’t have trespassed on the property!”
Callie feared Levi would hear them. She didn’t want him to come out, didn’t want this to get out of hand, so she lowered her voice. “He didn’t trespass.”
“You don’t know that!” Powell shouted, despite her attempt to get him to speak quietly. “You don’t know anything! You’re just some small-town bitch who’s sticking her nose in something that’s got nothing to do with her.”
The barn door slid open with a resounding bang. At that point, Callie knew Levi would be joining them. It was too late to hope he’d stay out of it.
“Time for you to go,” he announced to the Gruper renters.
Because he wasn’t within reach of Denny’s headlights or the dim circle thrown by her porch light, Callie could only make out his shape, but it was enough to tell her he was striding purposely toward them.
Denny and Powell swung around. “Who the hell are you?” Denny asked.
Powell grabbed Denny’s arm as Levi stepped into the light. “That’s got to be the guy. Why else would he be in the barn so late? He tried sleeping in our garage last night, didn’t he?”
In deference to the cooler temperatures once the sun went down, Levi was wearing a thermal shirt with his jeans. He must’ve gotten it from his pack because Callie hadn’t seen it before. She liked it on him, but she wasn’t too encouraged by how lean it made him look in comparison to the two bruisers on her porch.
With Denny and Powell distracted by the interruption, Callie raised her gun. She was afraid she might have to head off a fight. But she hesitated to speak up too soon, didn’t want a show of force to cause this situation to escalate if there was still a chance of avoiding it.
“Calm down,” she warned Rifle who, taking his lead from Levi’s appearance, was growling at Denny and Powell.
Levi came close—close enough for Callie to see
the fury in his eyes. Together with the anger chiseled in the hollows of his cheeks, the firm set of his jaw and the thinness of his lips, he looked dangerous despite the fact that he weighed a lot less than the two Gruper renters.
“I don’t want any trouble.” She had to lower her gun to grab hold of her dog. She wished she could toss her weapon to Levi. Maybe it only shot pellets, but she couldn’t imagine him taking on two men without some kind of defense, especially these men. He had too many stitches, for starters.
To her dismay, he didn’t allow her the chance to give him the gun. He answered her, but he didn’t even look over.
“There won’t be trouble, provided these two get back in their truck and drive away.”
Denny seemed so surprised that this “vagrant” would stand up to him he didn’t react immediately. He glanced at Powell as if confirming that this was just the invitation they’d been waiting for, and Powell seemed to interpret that as a signal to take charge.
“Look, if you want to get your ass kicked, we’ll be happy to take care of it,” he said.
“Is that what you came here for?” Levi responded. “A fight?”
“A fight?” Powell laughed out loud. “I’m talking about teaching you a lesson, loser, about trespassing on other people’s property. Because it looks to me like Sauron and Spike didn’t do half what they should have.”
The porch railing creaked under his weight as he swung his body over it, but before Callie could even process the threat and let go of Rifle, Powell was lying in the dirt. It all happened so fast she couldn’t tell how Levi had accomplished such a feat. It’d looked as if he’d landed only one punch, but the big guy wasn’t getting up.
Denny, who’d started down the steps, was now backing away from Levi instead of heading toward him. “What’s wrong with you, man? Are you crazy?”
“I’m sure there are psychologists out there who would say I am,” Levi replied.
“Now I know what happened to my dogs, why they got the worst of it.”
He had no idea what his dogs had done. Levi’s clothing covered the stitches, but Callie kept her mouth shut because Levi was already talking.
“Your dogs attacked me, and I did what I had to in order to survive.”
Powell was coming around. “What the hell...what’d he hit me with?” He blinked, shaking his head.
“Just get up,” Denny told him. “Get up right now.”
Powell managed to find his feet, but he staggered before he could begin making his way to the truck. Denny waited for him, then hurried around to the driver’s side.
“This isn’t finished,” he called back to Levi as he climbed in. “I hope you know that. I won’t let some piece-of-shit drifter destroy my dogs. And you’ll pay for what you just did to my friend, too.”
“You want more, we could finish it right here,” Levi said, but he sounded more tired than threatening. Maybe that was because he knew Denny wouldn’t take him up on the offer.
The door slamming shut was his only answer. Then Denny threw the truck in Reverse, swung around and charged down Callie’s driveway.
As his tires churned up the dust, Callie gaped at Levi, who was shaking the pain from his hand. “Did you break it?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Would you know if you had?”
“I’m pretty sure I would. I’ve broken it before.”
Rifle whined and sat down, letting Callie know there was no need to continue restraining him. She sighed as she straightened, feeling weaker than ever now that the excitement was over. “What’d you do to him?”
He stared after their red taillights. “You saw it.”
“But it happened so fast.”
“Just because a guy can lift weights doesn’t mean he can fight,” Levi said with a shrug.
“Where did you learn to fight?” She put the pellet gun aside. “In the military?”
“There’s no need for martial arts when you have a lethal weapon.”
She thought of Kyle and how rude he’d been earlier—and was glad he hadn’t pushed Levi too far. “You had to learn somewhere.”
He didn’t explain. “If you want me to leave instead of painting the barn, I’ll understand.”
“There’s no need for you to leave. They were the ones who got out of line, not you.”
“But as long as I’m here, they could come back.”
“They could come back, anyway. And it looks like I’ll be safer if you stay,” she added with a grin. “I doubt my pellet gun could’ve done what you just did.”
“Rifle could’ve handled them.”
She watched her dog lick Levi’s injured hand and wag his tail as if he’d just found a new hero. “I’d prefer he not have to.”
A dark spot was growing on Levi’s sleeve. “You’ve torn out some of your stitches.”
He glanced down. “It’ll be okay.”
“We can’t leave it like that.” She waved him forward. “Come on in.”
She applied a couple of butterfly Band-Aids to act in place of the torn stitches. Then she changed the dressing and got a blanket out of the linen closet.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she made a bed on the couch.
She was providing them with a little insurance that Denny and Powell wouldn’t be able to jump him while he was sleeping. “I think it’s better if you stay inside tonight.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I won’t if you’ll do me this favor,” she said.
* * *
It was late when Levi woke up. He could tell by the color of light streaming through the windows. The exhaustion of the past few days had caught up with him, but where was Callie? Was she still in bed?
He lay without moving, enjoying the peace and quiet while listening for her. At first, he heard nothing. But after several minutes, she whistled to her dog outside.
Yawning, he scratched his head, then winced at the pain caused by such a small action. Thanks to the miles he’d had to push his bike, the dogfight, the stitches, the lack of sleep and the confrontation with the two bodybuilders, he was banged up. Every muscle was sore. But it wasn’t the first time he’d ever woken up like this. When he’d lived at home, feeling as if he’d been hit by a truck had been a common occurrence.
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
How often had his father said that? And how many times had he made Levi prove it?
Unwilling to think of Leo and all his talk about becoming the best, he sat up and waited for his head to stop pounding before getting to his feet.
When he finally walked outside, Rifle came racing toward him. Levi couldn’t help tensing at the dog’s approach, but he’d lived with the threat of physical danger his whole life—if not in the ring, then at home, with a father whose hair-trigger temper could explode for almost no reason. Levi wasn’t about to let one incident with dogs make him cower in fear, especially because he’d always been a dog lover. After his mother took off with his sister, it was his dog who’d given him enough love to get him through the next ten years.
Fortunately, Rifle merely barked a hello. Then he circled, acting eager to lead the way to his master.
Levi motioned for the dog to start off. “Fine. Go.”
With another bark, Rifle loped toward the barn, but he didn’t stop at the entrance. He trotted through the middle and out the other side to where Callie was lying on the ground with a camera.
“You’re taking pictures of dirt?” Levi asked as he approached her.
Lowering her camera, she looked up at him. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt top, which was no longer clean, due to all that scooting around. “See? I’ve found an anthill!”
The excitement in her voice surprised him. “An anthill.”
“Yeah.” A bead of sweat rolled from her temple as she smiled. “I’ve been getting some great shots.”
He indicated the camera. “This is your hobby?”
“My profession. I have a studio in town. Reflections by Callie. We do a lot of weddings. But lately I’ve been shooting nature.”
He recalled the impressive photograph hanging in the kitchen. “That spider by the table.”
“Is mine, yes.”
“It’s nice.”
She seemed gratified. “Thanks.”
“So how often do you go into your studio?”
“I used to go every day. But...I’m taking the summer off.”
“To photograph nature.”
“And to say goodbye.”
He studied her carefully. “To whom?”
Sitting up, she tilted her head so that the sun could hit her face. “To this place. It belonged to my grandparents before they died. I spent a lot of summer days and weekends here when I was growing up, have a lot of fond memories.”
“That’s why you’re living out here alone?”
“That’s right. Why?”
He hesitated to put what he was feeling into words. He sensed that something was wrong, something beyond having to sell a piece of property that had been in the family for years. But he didn’t really know Callie and could easily be mistaken. He hoped he was. As much as he was determined not to feel anything, he appreciated her kind heart. He’d never experienced much gentleness. Not until he met Behrukh.
Maybe that was why he’d been foolish enough to get involved with her. He’d returned to her father’s store again and again, to buy gum, candy, bottled water, anything he could think of. He’d never been with a woman before and his hormones were running rampant.
“Who’s taking care of the studio?” he asked. “Or did you close it for the summer?”
“We couldn’t miss bridal season. So I have an assistant—more like an apprentice, I guess—who’s handling things for me.”
“While you work out here, taking pictures of nature and getting the farm in shape.”
“Basically.”
She wasn’t wearing any makeup. He got the impression she’d climbed out of bed, pulled her hair up and headed outside. But he liked her this way. She looked fresh and dewy and soft.
Suddenly, he craved some of that softness. A moment of tenderness. A respite from the bitterness that had left his own heart so hard. It felt like forever since he’d lost himself inside a woman.
But the only woman he’d known in that way was dead because of him. So was the baby she carried—his baby.
He tried to steel himself against the memory he avoided more than any other, but nearly swooned beneath the vision that broke on his mind. Being around Callie made it almost impossible to forget what happened. Although she looked nothing like the woman he’d loved, the two had a similar spirit.
“Are you okay?” Callie’s voice was soft, practically a whisper.
He opened his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. This wasn’t Behrukh, he reminded himself. And what had happened in Kandahar? There was nothing he could do to change it.
“Fine,” he managed to say. He wanted to get away from Callie, needed to get away.
Soon, he promised himself. As soon as he fulfilled his obligation. “Where’s the paint?”
Although she didn’t look convinced that he was as fine as he said, she didn’t inquire further. She dusted off her knees and got to her feet. “I’ll get it for you. After we have breakfast.”
6
Callie turned on some music while she made fried potatoes, omelets and toast. She’d always enjoyed cooking, but having someone to fix a meal for was even more fulfilling. Had she been on her own, she would’ve settled for toast and juice, since she often felt nauseous after a big meal.
“You don’t have to go to so much trouble.” Levi spoke from where he was cleaning up his bedding in the other room.
She didn’t bother to come up with a response. She’d awakened this morning feeling inexplicably happy just to be alive. Part of it was the sunshine pouring into the old farmhouse. She loved it here, was glad she’d moved. But Levi was another reason she felt so good. Trying to help someone else gave fresh purpose to her own life. It also dragged her attention away from her various worries and complaints—and the inevitable, should she be unable to find a liver donor.
“Did you hear me?” he called.
“I heard you,” she replied.
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“Because I’m going to make what I’m going to make.”
“Okay, forget I said anything.”
She smiled at the pique in his voice. She had no idea what his story was, or if he’d tell her before he left. Most likely not. She didn’t care either way. He had a right to his privacy. She simply liked thinking that she’d made a positive impact on someone, if only in a small way—giving him a place to stay, some food to eat, a few days of peace.
“We need to go into town so I can get a new rod for your shower,” he said.
“Why not take the one from the other bathroom?” she suggested.
“We have to get parts for my bike, anyway.” Having folded his bedding, he was now standing in the doorway. She could tell by the sound of his voice, but she didn’t turn.
“Callie.”
She was pretty sure it was the first time he’d called her by name. She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
“What’s really going on with you?”
The gravity in his voice told her this wasn’t a casual question. He could sense that something wasn’t ideal. But she didn’t want him to know about her diagnosis any more than she wanted anyone else to know. She couldn’t say why. Maybe she was afraid he’d see her as flawed or defective. Why would he choose to spend even a few days with a woman who wouldn’t be around in a couple of weeks or months? And she didn’t want him to go. She was intrigued enough to hope he’d finish out the week.
“What’s really going on with you?” she asked, turning his own question back on him. “There’s got to be a reason a handsome, capable guy goes rambling around America.”
When he grunted, she took it to mean “Touché,” and chuckled to herself.
“You’re not like other women,” he said.
She got a plate out of the cupboard. “Are you like other men?”
“I like the same things they do.”
There seemed to be added significance to this statement, as if he was talking about liking women, liking sex, but she chose to ignore that—just as she chose to ignore the way he was looking at her. “Good. Then you should enjoy your breakfast.” She carried his omelet to the table before returning to the counter for his toast and hash browns.
“Where’s yours?” he asked when she sat down with only half a glass of juice.
She’d been so eager to see him eat that she hadn’t prepared anything for herself. “I’m not hungry.”
“You didn’t eat much last night.”
“I was too tired.”
“And now?”
“I ate earlier.”
He glanced around the kitchen, but said nothing about the lack of evidence.
She nodded toward his food. “Go ahead while it’s hot,” she said. Then she stood. “I’ll shower so we can drive to town when you’re finished.”
“I’d feel better if you’d eat.”
She couldn’t imagine why it would matter to him. “I’m fine,” she insisted, and felt his gaze follow her out.
* * *
Levi hadn’t felt much physical desire in the past year. He hadn’t cared whether he lived or died, let alone whether he satisfied his sexual appetite. After Behrukh, he’d figured he’d never want a woman again. He certainly didn’t deserve to go on without her, especially in that way.
But sitting in Callie’s house knowing she was standing naked under the shower, gave him his first erection—that wasn’t a dream—since Kandahar. He kept picturing the spray running between her full breasts, cascading over her flat stomach to roll between her legs, where he wanted to touch her, to feel her slick, wet body close around him.
Listening to the whine of the pipes in the old house, he stopped chewing and put down his fork. His heart was pounding, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. Did such a sudden, unexpected rush of lust mean he was recovering? Or that he was an even worse person than he’d thought?
A phone rang. Callie’s cell phone. She’d left it on the kitchen counter.
To distract himself, he got up to see who it was. A picture of Kyle filled the screen. It was her boyfriend, or whatever she wanted to call him, no doubt checking in to see if she was okay.
Kyle’s intrusion reminded Levi that he had no business thinking about Callie in that way. He didn’t know her. And, other than her one throwaway statement about his being handsome and capable, she’d certainly given no indication that she’d welcome his advances. Why would she want to be touched by a vagrant? Someone who’d essentially abandoned any kind of normal life?
He couldn’t act on his desire, even if she extended an invitation. He’d feel far too guilty.
Taking a deep breath, he returned to the table, where he finished eating in slow, deliberate bites. From that moment on, he was extradiligent about keeping his mind blank, but it didn’t help. He was still rock-hard when the water went off, so he quickly cleaned up the kitchen and fled to the barn.
* * *
“Your boyfriend called while you were in the shower.”
Callie was driving. Levi sat in the passenger seat. She’d noticed the missed call when she’d picked up her phone, but she hadn’t wanted to speak to Kyle while she was with Levi. She knew he wouldn’t be happy about the encounter with Denny Seamans and Powell Barney. He’d say that Levi’s presence had compromised her safety. But it was Denny and Powell, and only Denny and Powell, who were to blame for what happened last night.
“You mean my friend,” she said. “I saw that.”
“You’re not going to call him back?”
“I will when I have a minute to focus.”
“You might want to do it sooner rather than later.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Because...”
“He’ll only come over if you don’t.”
“True.” He had an excellent point. Having these two men in the same room made her uncomfortable. She preferred to avoid that in future. But if she called Kyle while driving, she’d have to use her hands-free, which essentially put him on speakerphone, and she wasn’t about to let Levi hear their conversation. She had no idea what Kyle might say. So she waited until she pulled into the auto parts store.
“I’ll be right in,” she told Levi, and dialed Kyle’s number the second he got out.
“Hey,” she said when Kyle answered.
“Hey yourself,” he responded. “Where’ve you been?”
“Sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”
“All morning?”
“Levi and I were in a hurry to get to town.”
“So he’s with you?”
“Sort of. He’s in the auto parts store.”
“I see. And once he fixes that bike of his he’ll be leaving?”
She clenched her jaw. “After he’s painted the barn, Kyle. You know the deal.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbled. “But I’m relieved you’re okay. He didn’t hurt you or do anything weird?”
“No.”
“The owner of the dogs who attacked Levi brought them to the vet yesterday.”
She slipped her keys into her purse. She could see Levi heading down an aisle inside the store. He wasn’t at the register yet, but she’d have to go in soon so she could pay for the parts he needed. “How do you know?”
“Cheyenne was there. Her dog has a sore foot.”
“Why didn’t she call me?”
“Why would she? She didn’t know you had anything to do with some vagrant getting bitten by pit bulls—until I told her.”
Great. Now Cheyenne knew? She was part of the group Callie and Kyle had grown up with. It was only a matter of time before the whole gang found out, which meant Callie would be hearing from more and more of them. “I still don’t get why she called you.”
“She wanted to tell me that she’d seen Noelle with another guy on her way home.”
Noelle had to be the most hated ex in all of Whiskey Creek. She hadn’t been particularly popular before marrying Kyle. Everyone had known he was making a terrible mistake. But, at the time, there’d been a baby involved and his sense of decency demanded he see it through. “That’s good news, right?”
“If she marries him. Then I won’t have to continue paying spousal maintenance.” He cursed under his breath. “I still can’t believe how much that judge ordered me to pay. He saw a pretty woman weeping in front of him and it didn’t matter what I said after that.”
“You could’ve fought harder.”
“It wasn’t worth it to me to drag the damn thing out. Money is only money, I guess. At least I don’t have to live with her anymore.”
“So how badly were they hurt?”
“The dogs? One had a couple of broken ribs. The other a broken leg. And they each needed stitches. Cheyenne said she thinks they must’ve hurt each other in the fight, because one’s ear was cut.”
The attack must’ve been horrific. It was a wonder both dogs and Levi had come out of it basically okay. Callie doubted someone without Levi’s ability to defend himself would’ve been able to fend them off. “They would’ve killed a lesser man.”
“A lesser man?” Kyle repeated.
She straightened at the wry note in his voice. “Someone who can’t fight like he can.”
“How do you know he can fight?”
“Because I saw him. The owner of those dogs—Denny Seamans—brought his buddy Powell and showed up on my doorstep last night.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to admit that. “I wasn’t expecting it to go the way it did.”
“What happened?”
“Denny tried to convince me that his dogs weren’t at fault, that they only attacked because Levi trespassed on their property.”
“Maybe that’s really how it went down,” Kyle said. “You don’t know. You weren’t there.”
“Levi wasn’t in their garage.” She was so glad she’d had a chance to peek inside it. She suspected no one would believe the truth otherwise, not with Denny and Powell protesting to high heaven.
“You were looking for his bike when you checked, Cal.”
“Yeah, but if those dogs attacked Levi in the garage and not out on the street, there would’ve been blood.” Just look at the amount he’d gotten on her porch....
“Maybe Denny Whoever cleaned it up before we got there.”
“When they had two dogs who needed to see a vet right away? No. I’m guessing he and Powell woke up to find the dogs injured, loaded them up and took off. That’s why they weren’t home when we went by.” She shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. “They didn’t bother cleaning up the blood on the driveway, did they?”
“So what are you now? A forensics tech?”
She could tell her loyalty to Levi irritated him. He didn’t want to deal with some interloper, especially one who had nothing—no reputation, job or known background—to recommend him. Kyle had been through too much with his divorce. Not only that, but he’d been stressed out before Levi appeared. His sister was going through her own divorce. She and her kids had been staying with him for two months.
“It doesn’t take a forensics tech to realize there’d be a mess,” she said.
“I’m guessing you told Denny and Powell this.”
It was getting too hot to sit in the SUV. Once again checking the store to make sure Levi wasn’t waiting for her, she opened her door to catch the breeze. “More or less. Then our exchange woke Levi and he—”
“Snapped,” Kyle broke in.
Why did he automatically assume it was Levi’s fault? “No, he didn’t snap. Not exactly. I think he would’ve done a lot more damage if he’d really let go.”
Kyle barked out an incredulous laugh. “Against two guys? Come on! Cheyenne said they were built like army tanks.”
“That’s true. They are—and last night they were itching for a fight. But when one of them went after Levi, Levi knocked him out with a single punch.”
Her recap sobered him. “What did the other guy do?”
“Fortunately, that discouraged Denny from getting involved. But he wasn’t happy. He helped his friend to the car, said it wasn’t over and drove off.”
Silence.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
“You should’ve listened to me and sent McCloud on his way when you had the chance.”
She slapped the steering wheel. “Levi hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“He caused Denny’s dogs to be impounded and knocked out his friend!”
“As much as I hate to say it, since I love dogs, those two are dangerous. So are their owner and his buddy! I have to stand up for the truth, Kyle. If I don’t, it’ll be my fault if those pit bulls are released and hurt someone else. Is that what you want?”
The question seemed to take the edge off his anger. “No. Of course not. I just... If Levi’s going to be moving on, it’s better if he does it sooner rather than later. That’s all.”
“Better for whom?” she demanded.
“Better for you.”
“No, better for you.” She hung up, then sat staring at her phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten into an argument with Kyle. They could get a little irritated with each other, and at that point they usually parted company. But she’d never hung up on him before.
Was what she’d feared happening? Had sleeping together ruined their friendship? Doomed it to failure?
She hoped not. She’d only been trying to give him a shoulder to cry on, had never intended to end up in his bed.
She thought of their other friends—Gail, Cheyenne, Eve, Noah, Baxter, Ted, Sophia, Riley—and was embarrassed. A rift between two of them risked the enjoyment they all received from being part of the group.
“You coming in?”
Callie jerked her head up to see Levi standing in the doorway. Thanks to her conversation with Kyle, she’d stopped checking to see if he was ready for her. “Uh, yeah,” she said, and dropped her phone in her purse before climbing out.
Levi watched her closely. “Kyle said something you didn’t like?”
She refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him.”
“He wants me gone,” he said simply.
“I don’t think he knows what he wants.”
Levi could’ve said more. No doubt he understood why their relationship was so complex. But he didn’t press her to answer any more questions. He merely held the door and she went in to pay.
* * *
After the auto parts store, which was located in the next town, they returned to Whiskey Creek and bought a shower rod from the hardware store. With the Old West–style boardwalk in front and the antique gold lettering on the window, the place resembled a mercantile out of the 1800s. Most of the other businesses on Sutter Street looked similar. They were definitely a blast from the past, including Callie’s photography studio, where they stopped next. When Levi had passed through Whiskey Creek, he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to it, except to eat and buy gas. Two days ago, this town was just another spot on the map. He’d never expected to see it again.
A young woman with long dark hair sat working on a computer. She glanced up when the bell over the door rang, then jumped to her feet.
“I didn’t realize you were coming in,” she said to Callie.
Callie shrugged. “I was in town, so I thought I’d come by, see how things are going.”
Her eyes drifted to Levi.
“This is a friend of mine,” Callie explained. “He’s visiting for a week or so. Levi, this is Tina, my assistant.”
Tina offered him a shy smile. “Hello.”
He acknowledged her greeting with a nod.
“I was just finishing up the Barrado album,” she said, returning her attention to Callie.
“How’s it turning out?”
“Great.”
“Farrah Johnson called. She was wondering when her pictures will be in.”
“I don’t know why she bothered you. I’ve already talked to her. I have an appointment with her next week.”
“Maybe she’s miffed that I didn’t do her wedding myself.”
Their words faded to background noise as Levi circled the studio, studying the photographs that hung on the walls—a pregnant woman standing partially in shadow, two toddlers playing with a bunny, a family wading in a river, several brides and graduates and chubby babies. Callie was good at chronicling life, he thought. She seemed to capture just the right nuances of lighting and expression—if these were all her work and not Tina’s.
In a small covelike display area, he found a picture of ten people, who all looked to be about the same age. Callie hadn’t taken this shot; she was in it. So was Kyle.
“You ready?” Callie asked
Levi glanced over at her. “Who are these people?”
“My best friends.”
“There’re a lot of them.”
She smiled. “Except for Chey, we’ve known one another since grade school.”
“Only in a place like this,” he murmured.
“Probably.” She fished out her keys. “There’s too much shifting around in the bigger cities.”
“You didn’t lose any of the group? None of them ever moved away?”
She pointed to a moderately attractive redhead at one end. “Gail did. She’s still gone, but she comes back to visit when she can. Do you recognize her?”
“No. Am I supposed to?”
“She’s married to Simon O’Neal.”
“The movie star Simon O’Neal?”
“One and the same.”
“How did she meet him?”
“She started a PR company in L.A. about eleven years ago. Used to do his publicity. She still does.”
“Didn’t he recently go through a very public meltdown?” He remembered getting bits and pieces of Hollywood gossip, even in Afghanistan.
“It’s been a couple of years, but yes. Definitely not his finest hour. That was before they fell in love and she got him turned around,” she added with a wink.
“I haven’t heard anything about him lately.” But he didn’t spend much time in front of the TV. Once he
returned home after his third tour, he took to the road almost immediately. At that point, what one movie star or another was or wasn’t doing seemed to have no relevance to his life.
“The fact that you haven’t heard anything is good news. It means he’s recovered.” She drew his attention to a dark-haired woman with olive skin and a severe widow’s peak. “This is Eve. She runs Little Mary’s
B and B down the street, which her parents bought shortly after their marriage.” She rested one graceful-looking hand on her hip. “It’s rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a six-year-old girl who was murdered in the basement in 1871.”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “Do you believe that’s true?”
“The murder’s documented. I don’t know about the haunting. Some strange things have certainly happened there. Eve’s not the superstitious type, would never make this up. And she’s not the only one who’s experienced strange noises and movement. Some people even claim to have seen the child’s ghost.”
“But not Eve.”
“She hasn’t, no.”
“Who killed the girl?”
“No one knows. The truth never came out.”
“Sounds like the twentieth-century equivalent of the JonBenét Ramsey case.”
“I guess you could say that. Unsolved Mysteries came here the first of the year and did a show on it. They hired investigators and forensic profilers and had Simon do a cameo appearance. In the end, they tried to say it was most likely the gardener, but I wasn’t convinced.”
“What about her father?”
Callie seemed mildly surprised by the question. “He was an older wealthy man who married late in life. Mary was his only child. You think he might’ve killed her?”
“I’m thinking he would’ve had access and opportunity.”
“But his own daughter?”
“Maybe she made him angry. Maybe he was trying to punish her and got carried away, went too far.” He understood how that went, didn’t he? If his father wasn’t beating on him physically, he was pushing him in the gym.
“The show suggested that exact scenario as their second favorite solution. But they couldn’t uncover any proof. I assume that’s why they went with the gardener. Who wants to believe a father could be so heinous?”
No one. Only the mother was likely to know what the father was capable of. But if she was as cowed as his mother had been, it wouldn’t matter. The child would be left with no protection.
Callie went through the rest of the group, telling him who everyone was and what each person did for a living. Noah Somebody owned a bike store. Baxter North commuted to San Francisco, where he worked as a stockbroker. Kyle manufactured solar panels.
“So he’s rich?” Levi asked.
“Kyle?”
He nodded. In the picture, he wasn’t standing by Callie. He had his arm around someone else.
“He’s not as rich as Simon and Gail,” she said. “But almost no one’s as rich as they are. Still, Kyle does very well for himself.”
Levi looked back at the portrait. “Who’s this?”
She’d already told him, but repeated the name. “Cheyenne. Pretty, isn’t she?”
Not as pretty as Callie. None of the other women were as pretty as Callie.
“But don’t get your hopes up,” she teased. “She just got married.”
“And this person?” He pointed to someone else.
“That’s Ted Dixon. He’s a thriller writer. Has a handful of books out. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
“No.” He’d never done much reading, not even when he was in school. Homework and preparing for college—that hadn’t been nearly as important to his father as making sure Levi was lifting weights and learning new martial-arts moves. Leo had needed a prizefighter to put his dojo on the map. His own street cred had depended on it; so had the amount he could earn.
Tina interrupted with a question for Callie, and Callie walked over to the computer to help. When she returned, she touched his arm. “You ready to go?”
Levi pulled himself away from the portrait. He hadn’t expected it, but the unity and tranquillity of this town appealed to him.
7
Callie felt a hard lump in her stomach the moment she saw a police cruiser turn down her drive. She’d been out photographing the anthill again while Levi repaired the hinges on the back door of the barn. The roof would need even more work, but due to their trip to town, which had included some grocery shopping on the way home, they hadn’t gotten an early start. He fixed his motorcycle first, so he’d only been working on the barn for an hour. She was already walking to the house, planning what to make for dinner, when she saw that the cop was Tim Stacy, chief of Whiskey Creek’s four-man police force.
Window down, arm hanging out, he didn’t seem to notice the dust being kicked up by his tires. He waved as if this was a friendly visit, but she suspected it wasn’t all that friendly. Although Chief Stacy was about ten years her senior, they’d known each other for years. She’d taken his children’s baby pictures. But if she had to guess, he wasn’t here for personal reasons. He’d come to get to the bottom of the dog incident. She wouldn’t have minded that, except it was probably at Denny and Powell’s insistence.
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Brenda Novak
Welcome to Whiskey Creek—heart of the gold country! One day, Callie Vanetta receives devastating news… She needs a liver transplant. But her doctors warn that, in her case, the chances of finding a compatible donor aren’t good. Determined to spend whatever time she has left on her own terms, she keeps the diagnosis to herself and moves out to her late grandparents’ farm.She’s always wanted to live there. But the farm hasn’t been worked in years and she begins to fear she can’t manage it, that she’ll have to return to town. One night, a stranger comes knocking at her door…He’s an attractive and mysterious drifter by the name of Levi McCloud, and he offers to trade work for a few nights’ shelter. Callie figures she doesn’t have anything to lose. He needs a place to stay until he can fix his motorcycle; she needs an extra pair of hands.The arrangement seems ideal until what was supposed to be temporary starts to look more and more permanent. Then she realizes she does have something to lose—her heart. And although he doesn’t yet know it, Levi stands to lose even more.
One day, Callie Vanetta receives devastating news…
She needs a liver transplant. But her doctors warn that, in her case, the chances of finding a compatible donor aren’t good.
Determined to spend whatever time she has left on her own terms, she keeps the diagnosis to herself and moves out to her late grandparents’ farm. She’s always wanted to live there. But the farm hasn’t been worked in years and she begins to fear she can’t manage it, that she’ll have to return to town.
One night, a stranger comes knocking at her door…
He’s an attractive and mysterious drifter by the name of Levi McCloud, and he offers to trade work for a few nights’ shelter. Callie figures she doesn’t have anything to lose. He needs a place to stay until he can fix his motorcycle; she needs an extra pair of hands. The arrangement seems ideal until what was supposed to be temporary starts to look more and more permanent. Then she realizes she does have something to lose—her heart. And, although he doesn’t yet know it, Levi stands to lose even more.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak
The characters’ “heartwarming romance develops slowly
and sweetly. The sex is fantastic, but the best part is
how Simon and Gail tease and laugh as they grow closer.”
—Publishers Weekly on When Lightning Strikes
“Novak delivers a lively, sparkling series debut…
romantic gold by a superior novelist. The love story blossoms naturally, which is rare nowadays.…
Additionally, by populating Whiskey Creek with
realistic characters—instead of ‘quirky’ caricatures—
Novak ensures that readers will eagerly await their next visit.”
—RT Book Reviews on When Lightning Strikes
“Whenever I see a new Brenda Novak book, I buy it and read it, pronto. I can always count on her for a solid, exciting story, full of adventure and romance.”
—Linda Lael Miller, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Any book by Brenda Novak is a must-buy for me.”
—Reader to Reader Reviews
“Brenda Novak’s seamless plotting,
emotional intensity and true-to-life characters
who jump off the page make her books completely satisfying. Novak is simply a great storyteller.”
—Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author
“I suggest Brenda Novak be added to your ‘to buy’ list today. You won’t be disappointed.”
—Romance Reader’s Connection
“In Close is intense and sensual and chock-full of
emotional torment. The array of transgressions and suspects and small-town secrets makes for a riveting read.”
—USA TODAY
“Novak is an expert at creating emotionally driven romances full of heat, sensual tension and conflict that not only
satisfy her characters but her readers as well.”
—Writers Unlimited
When Summer Comes
Brenda
Novak
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
To Danita Moon. Your kindness, generosity and support have made such an impact on my life. Thank you for diving in and helping to make my annual online auction for diabetes research such a success. Here’s to hitting that $2 million mark next year. Thanks, too, for your enthusiasm for my books. Your willing heart and capable hands have made my load so much lighter.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Whiskey Creek! This series has been fun for me to write. I love the group of friends these stories are based on. Truth be told, I’m a little jealous of them. I wish I’d been able to keep my high school friends a bit closer, but I moved the day after graduation and have never gone back, at least for any length of time. That’s caused quite a bit of drifting in those relationships, which is too bad. There’s definitely something special about knowing someone for so long and sharing so much.
This story was inspired by a friend of mine from college who was diagnosed with nonalcoholic fatty liver disease ten years ago. She was a wife and mother in the prime of her life and, being Mormon, never drank. I remember being so surprised that her only hope for life was a liver transplant. It seemed far too incongruous with how healthy she’d always been. But I’m happy to report that she received the transplant she needed. It’s now a decade later and she’s just as beautiful and energetic as she ever was. I saw her when I was visiting Utah recently and felt so gratified to see her thriving. Then I learned that another friend of mine (this one here in California) was recently diagnosed with the same thing. My California friend is currently on the national donor list, hoping and praying that a liver becomes available—and I’m hoping and praying right along with her.
In case you’re not aware, there have been two other novels published in this series—When Lightning Strikes (released 9/12) and When Snow Falls (11/12). There’s even a 150-page novella that kicks off the series (When We Touch). Information about these and my other titles can be found on my website, BrendaNovak.com. There, you can also enter to win my monthly drawings, sign up for my newsletter, contact me with comments or questions and join my fight to find a cure for diabetes. My youngest son suffers from this disease. So far, thanks to my generous supporters, my annual online auctions (held every May at BrendaNovak.com) have raised a cumulative total of $1.6 million.
Here’s to your health and happiness!
Brenda Novak
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u74381b01-865c-5224-ad2d-f5bdab4020b4)
Chapter 2 (#u71ea375f-8be3-5494-a4d5-b657942205a2)
Chapter 3 (#u5cbfe83b-4016-50d8-a455-449be186530b)
Chapter 4 (#ubc216299-84b3-5085-bdbb-9def39e8be30)
Chapter 5 (#u46076ac9-ff01-5609-8fca-8cea76aadaac)
Chapter 6 (#u0c947bf7-0418-552e-9380-35c8ea5cdf78)
Chapter 7 (#ubd053676-6ab5-56e2-97a3-a6bc21ea5713)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
1
The barking of her dog dragged Callie Vanetta from a deep sleep.
Rifle, the German shepherd her parents had given her for Christmas, was only two years old, but he was the smartest animal she’d ever known, certainly savvy enough not to make a racket in the middle of the night without reason. Despite all the critters that scurried around the place after dark, he hadn’t awakened her like this once in the three months since she’d moved to the farm.
So if he thought she had something to worry about, there was a good chance she did.
Despite the warm June night, chills rolled through Callie’s body as she lay on her back, blinking against the darkness. She’d always felt so safe in her grandparents’ home. They’d passed away five years ago, but the comfort of their love and the memories created here lingered on. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could almost feel their presence.
But not tonight. Fear eclipsed all other emotions, and she wondered what she’d been thinking when she gave up the small apartment above her photography studio downtown. She was out in the middle of nowhere, her closest neighbor over a mile down the road, with her dog sounding an alarm and scratching at the front door as if some menace lay beyond it.
“Rifle?” She whispered his name as loudly as she dared. “Hey!” she added, making kissing sounds.
He charged into her room, but he wasn’t about to settle down. He circled in place, whining to let her know he didn’t like something he heard outside. Then he darted back to the front door, singularly determined to show her where the trouble was.
She thought he might try to rouse her again. He obviously hoped to get her out of bed. But she was so frightened and undecided about what to do she couldn’t move. Especially when he quit barking and emitted a deep, threatening growl—one that told her he’d laid back his ears and bared his teeth.
The hair rose on Callie’s arms. Her dog meant business. She’d never seen him like this. What had him so upset? And what should she do about it? She’d watched too many true-crime shows not to realize what could happen. But, given her health, getting murdered would be too ironic. Surely, this couldn’t be leading there.
She’d just decided to call the police when a heavy knock sounded and a male voice carried into the house.
“Hello? Anyone home? Sorry to wake you, but...could a man come out here, please? I need some help.”
A man? Whoever was at her door wasn’t from Whiskey Creek. Her family had lived in the area for generations. Everyone knew that this was the Vanetta farm, that the aging Theona and Herbert had died within months of each other and she was living here alone.
“Hello?” the man called again. “Please, someone answer me!”
Should she respond? Letting him hear her voice would tell him she was a woman, which didn’t seem smart. But she had her dog to defend her. And she had a pellet gun she used to scare off skunks and raccoons and any other animals that might have rabies or get aggressive.
Problem was she couldn’t remember where she’d put it. The screened-in porch that overlooked the outbuildings in back? The mudroom off the kitchen? She might even have left it in the barn. Until now, she hadn’t felt any need for self-defense. All the wildlife she’d encountered seemed more afraid of her.
Still, she should’ve kept that gun close. What good was it otherwise? She wasn’t going to scare anyone away with her camera.
“Open up!” Bang, bang, bang.
Drawing a shaky breath, she called 9-1-1 on her cell phone, which had been charging on the nightstand, and, speaking as low as she could and still be heard, told the operator that she had a stranger at her door. The operator advised her to sit tight, a squad car was on its way, but she slid out of bed and groped through the darkness for some clothes. Summer had come early this year. With the weather so mild, she hadn’t worn anything to bed except a pair of panties. In case her visitor tried to break in before the police arrived, she wanted to get dressed.
“Can someone help me?” the man hollered.
Wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans, and armed with the knowledge that someone from Whiskey Creek’s four-man police force would soon arrive, she crept toward the door. What was wrong?
Despite the ruckus her dog was making, her visitor didn’t seem to be giving up. His determination lent him a degree of credibility, even though she knew her reasoning was flawed. His persistence didn’t necessarily mean he was telling the truth. If he had a gun and was capable of using it, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting bitten.
So...was he really hurt? If the answer was yes, how’d he get that way? And how did he come across her property, tucked away as it was in the Sierra Nevada foothills? She couldn’t imagine some random individual driving these back roads at one in the morning, especially midweek. She encountered plenty of strangers during tourist season, which was upon them, but always in town. Not out here.
“Shit,” he grumbled when he got no response. Then something hit the door harder than a knock, as if he’d crumpled against the wooden panel and was sliding to the porch floor.
A flicker of concern warred with Callie’s fear. Maybe he really was hurt. Maybe he’d run his car into a ditch or a tree and injured himself so badly he was about to die....
She snapped on the porch light. Although it went against her better judgment to let him know she was home, he’d managed to convince her that he might really
need help. Some of the TV programs depicting real home-invasion robberies also showed innocent victims who were unable to get help because of other people’s fear.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
A swiping sound suggested he was using the door to steady himself as he clambered to his feet. She peered through the peephole, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but even with the porch light on she couldn’t see much—just a man’s head covered in a hooded sweatshirt.
“Thank God,” he said.
She might’ve thought it was one of the Amos brothers.
Although they’d calmed down in recent years, a couple of the younger ones still caused problems, from drunken-and-disorderly conduct to selling crystal meth to fighting. But they lived down by the river on the other side of town, they’d never bothered her before and she would’ve recognized the voice.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she called out over Rifle’s barking. The dog was even more excited now that he had the support of his master in taking on this interloper.
“Name is Levi, Levi McCloud. I need a first-aid kit, some water and rags.”
She ignored the second part. “I don’t know a Levi.”
“I’m just...passing through, ma’am.”
He was leaning too close to the door for her to distinguish his features. Was he doing that on purpose?
The idea that he could be made her more nervous than before. “But you decided to stop here?”
“No choice. My motorcycle...broke down a mile or two back.”
“That’s how you got hurt?”
“No. It was a...a couple of dogs. They ran out and attacked me...for no reason...while I was pushing my bike. Got me good, too.”
The way he forced his words through his teeth suggested that he was in pain, but maybe he was faking it. Maybe he was planning to rob her, rape her, possibly kill her.
“Where did this happen?” she asked.
He attempted to laugh but the sound died almost immediately. “Hell if I know. I’ve never been around here before.”
“Then what made you come now?”
“Heard it was pretty country.”
That was it? He was out on a joyride? Alone? His response didn’t seem particularly plausible, but the scenario he gave wasn’t inconceivable. Out here in the country, dogs weren’t always penned up or put on leashes. He could’ve been attacked, as he said.
She was tempted to open the door, if only to verify his story, see his injuries. But she couldn’t take the risk. “How’d you get away?”
“Listen...” He dropped his head against the door, covering the peephole entirely. Now it was impossible for her to see anything. “I don’t mean to frighten you. Is there...is there a man in the house? Someone else who...who might not...be afraid of me?”
She didn’t want to let on that she was alone. But if a male didn’t take command of the situation soon, he’d know, anyway. Perhaps he’d said that to confirm what he already suspected. “Tell me how you got away from the dogs.”
“I...convinced them I wasn’t...anything they wanted to mess with.”
Meaning he’d hurt the dogs as much as they’d hurt him?
She wondered whose pets they were, and if the incident had really happened. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Hard to tell in the dark, but...it’s bad enough to make me bother you, which isn’t something I wanted to do.”
She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “Okay, just...stay where you are. I’ve called for help. The police will be here soon.”
“The police?” Instead of reacting with relief, as she’d expected, he cursed and shoved away from the door. “Are you serious? They won’t do anything for me.”
“They’ll get you the medical attention you need,” she said, but he wasn’t listening. He was leaving. She could hear the porch creak under his weight.
“Where are you going?” she yelled.
He didn’t answer.
After hurrying to the window, she dropped to her knees in an effort to catch a glimpse of him before he could move out of sight.
For just a moment, she could make out the broad shoulders of a tall, spare man wearing jeans with that hoodie.
Why was he taking off without the help he needed? And why had he acted so averse to meeting up with the police? Was he wanted? A known felon?
Possibly. He had to have some reason for avoiding the authorities. But seeing how obviously he favored one leg, she believed he really was hurt.
She checked the time on her cell phone, which she’d brought with her. How long could it take to get a cruiser out here? She didn’t want to be any more vulnerable than she already was, but she also didn’t want to be responsible for the death of a lonely, injured stranger.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, but each minute felt like an hour. When she couldn’t wait any longer, she sprang to her feet and ordered her dog to silence.
Reassured by this show of strength, Rifle stared up at her, tongue hanging out and tail wagging eagerly. He seemed to be asking, “What now? What are we going to do now?”
“We’re going to see where he went,” she told him. She wasn’t sure he could comprehend her words, but speaking calmed her, and he certainly understood her intention. He barked once to confirm that he was ready.
Holding him by the collar, she slowly, cautiously, opened the door a crack and peered outside. The porch was empty, just as she’d assumed. She couldn’t hear or see any movement, didn’t know where the stranger had gone.
Rifle struggled against the grasp she had on his collar. Then he nudged the door open wide enough to squeeze through and pull her along with him. He even tried to drag her down the steps. Clearly, he wanted to go after the man.
She wasn’t up for that. But before she could insist they go back in and lock the door, she stepped in what her dog had probably smelled—something dark and wet smeared on the floorboards of the porch.
The second she realized it was there, she knew what it was. Blood.
* * *
The police had come and gone, and they hadn’t found a thing—no tall, dark stranger hiding on the premises. Not in the old tack shed. Not in the barn. And not in the cellar. They attempted to follow the blood that led down the steps of Callie’s porch, but the trail disappeared in the grass and dirt about ten feet away.
They poked around for over an hour, hoping to discover what had happened to her guest, but they didn’t have any search dogs with them and Rifle wasn’t trained to track. They tried using him for the first thirty minutes, but he was so distracted and excited by the two officers who’d come to help, she eventually had to shut him up in the mudroom, where she kept his food and water.
In the end, the police couldn’t figure out where the injured man had gone, which left Callie as unsettled after they drove off as before. She couldn’t help wondering if they hadn’t found the stranger because he didn’t want to be found. She didn’t think he’d had time to go far, not injured as he was. So how had he just...disappeared?
Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d reached a neighbor’s property. But if that was the case, why hadn’t anyone else called to report a bloody, hood-wearing stranger? And why hadn’t the cops been able to find his motorcycle? Was there a motorcycle? And was it really broken down?
Exhausted in a way she’d never been before she’d been diagnosed with non-alcoholic fatty liver disease, she finished cleaning up the blood—she didn’t want to see it when she woke up—and went into the house.
Rifle barked and scratched at the mudroom door, whining to be let out. But even now that everyone was gone, he was too excited. She didn’t want to deal with an agitated dog after what she’d already been through. She’d found her pellet gun in the barn, felt that would offer her some defense if the man came back. So she called out a good-night to Rifle, promising she’d take him for a long walk in the morning. Then she used the bathroom off the kitchen and checked all the doors.
Once she was satisfied that the house was as secure as she could make it, she took a final peek through the window, dragged the heavy pellet gun to her bedroom and peeled off her jeans. She was too rattled to sleep almost nude, like she’d been doing earlier, but she knew she’d never get comfortable in fabric as stiff and heavy as denim.
It wasn’t until she’d propped the gun against the wall next to her headboard and crawled beneath the blankets that she heard a noise. She wasn’t sure what it was; it had been too slight. But when it came again her fear returned.
She looked around—eyes wide, breath held—and realized her bathroom door was closed.
She rarely shut that door. It was in the master bedroom and she lived alone. There was never any reason to.
But that wasn’t the only thing that made her heart race. The light was on in there. She could see it through the crack near the floor.
2
Several thoughts went through Callie’s mind at the same time. She had the pellet gun and her cell phone, but her dog was shut in the mudroom. Should she slip out, free Rifle then call the police?
She had to have some way to defend herself until help could arrive. A pellet gun, even a high-powered one, wasn’t the best weapon with which to stop a man. Thanks to a deluge of adrenaline, her limbs felt like rubber. She doubted she’d have the strength to effectively use any weapon, especially a heavy one.
That said yes to the dog. But she wasn’t sure she could stomach what a struggle between Rifle and the intruder would entail. If she’d been told the truth, her visitor had already been attacked by two canines—and he’d beaten them off. She didn’t want to risk Rifle’s life, didn’t want anyone hurt if she could avoid it. Life had become too precious to her. Since her diagnosis, she considered every moment a gift, and she felt that way not just about her own life but everyone else’s.
At least now she understood why her dog had continued to strain at his leash and wouldn’t calm down when they were searching. She’d chalked his behavior up to youth and inexperience, but that wasn’t it at all. He was the only one who could smell, probably even hear, that they still had company.
Sneaking into the house while she and the police were searching the outbuildings was a bold move—so bold she’d never seen it coming. Why had the stranger taken such a risk? Was he so badly hurt he’d had no choice?
Could be.
Or he was determined to gain whatever he wanted from her.
The memory of his blood on the porch, on her bare foot when she stepped in it, weighed heavily on Callie’s mind. If he’d given her AIDS, there wouldn’t be much point in continuing to search for a liver donor....
Sweat poured down her body as she once again slid out of bed and pulled on her jeans. She’d simply vacate the room, take her phone and her gun and barricade herself in the mudroom with her dog while she called the police.
But then she heard a curse, a clatter and a crash that was so loud, her dog started jumping against the door clear on the other side of the house.
What had happened? If Callie had her guess, the man had fallen.
“Hello?” she called out, hesitating midway across the room. She was holding her phone as well as the gun, which made it difficult to use either one.
There was no answer. No sound or movement, either.
Had he hit his head and knocked himself out—or worse?
“Oh, no,” she murmured. In order to lift and aim the gun, she had to put down her phone. She hated to do that, but she was quickly growing more worried than scared, so she set it on her dresser close by. “I know you’re in there.”
“I pretty much...figured that...at this point.” He sounded tired. No, more than tired. Drained. That was hardly what she’d expect from someone who meant her harm. But she’d never encountered a psychopath before—not knowingly, anyway. She had no clue how one might act.
“I’ve got a gun!” she warned.
“Unless you plan...on shooting me for no reason...I don’t really care,” he said. “Just tell me the police are gone.”
Why would she admit she was alone? “They’re not. They’re right outside. I can call them in if necessary.”
There was another long silence.
“Did you hear me?”
“Let them go and I...I’ll leave. I just...needed some soap and water. That’s all. Some gauze would’ve been nice. But you don’t have that. What kind of woman doesn’t have a first-aid kit?”
“I have a first-aid kit. But I don’t keep it the medicine cabinet.”
“Too bad. It would sure...make a nice send-off present, if you...could...forgive my intrusion.”
What condition was he in? He was slurring his words. Talking at all seemed a struggle for him. “How’d you get inside my house?”
“Wasn’t hard. You and those...two officers...”
“Yes?”
He made an attempt to rally. “You were so intent on trying to use your dog to follow my trail I just...circled around behind you. I could tell where you were at all times. Until you brought him in.”
“How’d you keep from dripping blood all over?”
“I wrapped my sweatshirt around my arm...hoped that would help.”
It had done the trick. The trail of blood had disappeared completely. “Sneaking in here takes a lot of nerve,” she said.
“Lady, sometimes you...have to do...what you have to do. What else can I tell you.”
Lady? That made her sound old. She thought of her good friend Cheyenne marrying Dylan Amos just four months ago, right before the doctor had given her the bad news about her liver, and winced. She’d wanted a husband, a family. She’d never had a hint of health problems, no reason to believe she wouldn’t eventually have kids. Now chances were that she’d die before summer’s end.
There were more noises. These Callie couldn’t figure out. “What’s going on?” she asked, worried again.
“I’m trying to get...the hell out of...your bathtub.”
She was beginning to believe this whole night really had been about his injury. “What’s wrong? You can’t?”
“It’d be easier...if I wasn’t so...damn dizzy.”
What was she going to do now? She wasn’t sure she had the heart to call the police on him again. It wasn’t as if he’d waited in her bedroom and attacked her. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me get you some help,” she said. “I tried.”
“No, you called the police.”
“Same thing.”
“Not quite.”
She inched closer. She still held her gun at the ready but she was feeling more and more confident that she wouldn’t have to use it. “Why are you so afraid of the authorities?”
He didn’t respond for a few seconds. Judging by the noise, he was once again trying to get up. “Why do you think?”
“You’re wanted?”
“Not for anything serious.” He cursed as though he’d done something that hurt.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reverted to the question she’d asked before. “I have a few...unpaid speeding tickets.”
That sounded far too innocuous to explain his reaction. Surely it couldn’t be the truth. “You’re lying,” she said. “Why would that make you afraid of the police?”
“We don’t get along.”
“Meaning...”
“I’ve had...a few run-ins with them. They don’t like vagrants. Besides, a warrant is a warrant. Whether it’s for a speeding ticket or...or whatever else, they’ll take you in. I can’t let that happen.”
He’d called himself a vagrant, but he didn’t sound like one. Although she could tell he was in considerable pain, he was mostly coherent. Articulate, too. “Where are you from?”
“Does it matter? Look, if you’ll...help me a minute, I’ll be...on my way.”
“Where?”
“Wherever the road takes me.”
She crept right up to the door. “I thought your motorcycle broke down.”
“I’ll fix it. Believe me...I want to leave as badly as you want me gone. I have to get to my...my ride before someone else comes across it.”
Including the police. No doubt they’d impound it.
She listened for movement but didn’t hear anything. “Are you coming out or not?”
“I think...you’re going to have to come in. Just...whatever you do...keep that dog of yours away.”
“He’s in another room. But I can get him in here pretty darn fast if I need to,” she added.
“I won’t hurt you. Give me some bandages. Then I’ll go.”
Lifting the barrel of the gun so she could reach the knob, Callie pushed the door wide.
Sure enough, the man she’d first spotted on the porch was in her tub. He must’ve stumbled and fallen while trying to clean himself up, because he’d broken the shower curtain rod on the way down. The curtain lay on the floor, stained with blood. Blood speckled the vanity, the floor and the bath mat, too. But that wasn’t what concerned Callie. He didn’t look good. He’d managed to get to his feet, but he was huddled, shivering in nothing but a pair of bloodstained jeans in the corner, where he could use the walls to hold himself up.
Callie felt her jaw drop. “Look at you.”
He seemed to summon what strength he had left. “About that first-aid kit...”
“You need more than a Band-Aid.” About her age, maybe a little younger, he had blood smeared all over him as if he’d swiped here and there to staunch the flow. The hooded sweatshirt he’d been wearing was tied around one arm; his bloody T-shirt lay on the floor not far from the shower curtain. She couldn’t ascertain the injuries on the arm that was covered, but she could see he’d been bitten several times on the arm that was bare.
“You need painkiller, maybe food, a good doctor—and a heck of a lot of sleep.”
He didn’t respond. There was a gray cast beneath his tanned skin. That was probably new. But Callie suspected his gaunt, ravaged look wasn’t. This man was accustomed to living a hard life. His cheekbones were pronounced, testament to the fact that he was too thin, especially since he had such wide shoulders and big hands. And yet...he wasn’t unhandsome. Somehow his rawboned features gave him a rebel air and enhanced the impact of his hazel eyes, which regarded her with the wariness of a wild animal cornered because of injury.
He didn’t trust her any more than she trusted him, she realized.
Lowering the gun, she set it aside. Maybe dropping her guard was the wrong thing to do. Maybe it put her own safety in jeopardy. But she no longer cared in the same, fearful way she had before. Without a functioning liver, she was going to die soon, anyway.
But maybe she could save him.
* * *
The woman was small, even for a woman, and curvy. With platinum-blond hair and big blue eyes, she had a certain...bombshell look about her. Thirty or so, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with no bra. The no-bra part was unmistakable.
“Come here.” She stretched an arm toward him. “Let me help you out of the shower.”
Levi shrank against the tile. There wasn’t any reason for her to touch him. She’d only get blood on her clothes, and he’d caused her enough trouble for one night. “I just need—” he fought the dizziness that made it almost impossible to stay on his feet “—your first-aid kit.”
Somehow he had to stop the bleeding so he could see how bad his injuries were. He could tell that both arms were chewed up, especially his right, which he’d swaddled in his sweatshirt. He’d also been bitten on the back of the neck, his shoulder and his leg in two places. He didn’t know much about the dogs that’d attacked him, wasn’t sure of the breed—it’d been too dark and things happened too fast. The only thing he could say for sure was that he hadn’t been able to outrun them, even after he ditched his bike. When sharp teeth sank into his flesh, he’d been forced to fight. After that it had been a blur of snarling, lunging and gnashing teeth—on his part and that of the dogs.
Fortunately, he’d won. Or they’d all lost. One dog had finally taken a hard enough kick that he didn’t want any more and the other had followed him when he limped away, whining. Levi had done his share of limping, too. It hadn’t been a minor encounter for any of them.
The woman with the smooth complexion and soft, round features still had her hand out. “I’m afraid it can’t be that simple, Mr. McCloud. You need a doctor. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No.” He had no permanent address, no insurance and very little money. Everything he owned was stuffed into the backpack he’d left with his bike, except for the clothes on his back and the wadded-up bills in his pocket. Maybe twenty bucks at the most, it was just enough to buy food until he found his next odd job.
Worry tightened her voice. “How many times were you bitten?”
“Several.” Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the wall. “I’ve never seen animals so intent on tearing someone to pieces.” He winced at the memory. He’d been chased by a few dogs since returning from Afghanistan. Being out on the streets left him vulnerable. But he’d never been attacked. He’d made it through six years in the military, fighting in some of the worst hot spots in the Middle East without taking a bullet, only to be mangled by dogs in his own country.
“My arms took the brunt of it,” he explained. “They wanted the front of my...neck, my jugular, but I kept blocking them. I would’ve been...better off with my leather jacket on. But I’d worked up a sweat pushing my bike and...had taken it off. Bad luck.” He chuckled, but the thought of his bike, his jacket and his pack brought back the concern he’d been feeling earlier. He had to retrieve his belongings before someone stole them or the police came by. He’d had to leave his motorcycle right there on the side of the road, couldn’t continue to push it after the attack. It was too damn heavy.
“Okay, well, at least sit down. You’ll only hurt yourself more if you don’t.”
“I’ve gotta go.” He tried to step out of the tub, nearly toppled over and had to let her help him down onto his ass. Muttering something he couldn’t quite make out, she rolled up a towel she got from a cupboard and put it behind his head. Then she brought in a heavy blanket and covered him, right there in the tub. “Stay put,” she ordered as she tucked it tightly around him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The decisiveness in her voice made him lift his head. “Where are you going?”
“To get the first-aid kit, since that’s all you’ll accept.”
Relieved, he let his head fall back. If she was going to call the police again, she wouldn’t have braved coming in. Surely that meant he’d soon be bandaged up and on his way. He’d walk his bike to the small gold-rush town a few miles back where he’d had dinner and find the necessary parts and tools to make the repairs. Maybe he could offer his services to an auto shop for a few days in trade for what he’d need. He’d done that before. He could fix any kind of engine, had been in charge of the heavy equipment for his platoon in Afghanistan.
Trying to keep his mind off the pain, Levi concentrated on the gas station with the repair bays he’d noticed in town before settling on a café. But he must’ve drifted off despite his efforts to remain lucid, because when he opened his eyes there was another man in the room. He was easily in his seventies, his hair completely gray, and he had a hook nose, full beard and paunch that hung over his belt. He’d removed the blanket that had kept Levi warm, which was what had disturbed him.
The woman who’d covered him was now wearing a bra under her shirt. She wrung her hands as she peered over the old man’s shoulder. “Is he going to be okay?”
Levi didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Where’s the first-aid kit?” he asked, calling her on the deception.
She had the grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry. I was afraid you were going into shock. You need a doctor.”
The other man glanced up at her. “I’m not a doctor.”
She sent Levi an apologetic grin. “But he is a veterinarian.”
“Who’s mostly retired,” the guy said with a note of exasperation.
“Still good at his craft.” She patted his shoulder with obvious affection. “This was my grandfather’s friend and next-door neighbor. Now he’s my friend and neighbor. Godfrey Blume, meet Levi McCloud.”
* * *
“So what do you think?” Callie shooed Rifle out of her way so she could pour the coffee she’d put on a few minutes earlier. Levi McCloud was asleep in her bed, but Godfrey was sitting at her kitchen table.
Every time her neighbor yawned she felt bad about waking him in the middle of the night. He was nearing eighty. But she hadn’t expected providing Mr. McCloud with medical attention to take several hours. She’d been so caught up in helping to wash and bandage his wounds, she hadn’t noticed the passage of time until she saw the break of dawn. Now her rooster was out in the yard, crowing for all he was worth.
She couldn’t help smiling when she caught sight of the old bird strutting past her kitchen window. She loved early mornings. They reminded her of summers with her grandparents and awaking to the smell of frying bacon.
“I did what I could,” Godfrey said. “But I wish he would’ve let us take him to the hospital. Or even to a real doctor. I’ve never seen an attack like that.”
And her neighbor had worked with animals his whole life! She frowned as she set the sugar and cream on the table. “We did what we could.”
“Mr. McCloud is a surprisingly stubborn man, given the extent of his injuries.”
Once Godfrey had ascertained the large number of stitches their patient required, they’d both tried, once again, to get him in her car. Godfrey could only offer him a topical analgesic to ease the pain—and Tylenol. But there was nothing they could do to overcome Mr. McCloud’s resistance. He tried to leave on his own power when they insisted, and would’ve done so if they’d pushed it any further. At that point, Godfrey had relented and agreed that some care was better than none.
“We should report the dogs to animal control,” she said. “They need to be restrained before they hurt someone else—a child, for instance.”
“I plan on looking into it.” Her neighbor had been the only veterinarian in town for most of his life. He’d officially retired three years ago, when the newly licensed Harrison Scarborough opened his practice. But some people still brought their animals to Godfrey.
“Do you have any idea whose pets they might be?” she asked while pouring herself some cranberry juice. She was on a strict diet that precluded alcohol, salt and coffee, among other things.
He smoothed his shirt over his belly. “My bet? There’s a couple of pit bulls down the road, around the bend.”
“Really?” Callie had never seen any, but she’d been pretty preoccupied of late. Adjusting to the shock of her diagnosis, especially since she’d never consumed much booze, hadn’t been easy. She’d thought only alcoholics had to worry about cirrhosis. “You think it’s them?”
“I can’t imagine what other dogs it could be. I know all the rest of the animals in the area, and they wouldn’t do something like what we saw.”
“Whose pit bulls are they?”
“Belong to a couple of young men, maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine, who are renting the old Gruper place. They’re here for the summer, doing some prospecting.”
Gold panning and dredging had become popular pastimes. A lot of tourists visited “the heart of gold country” to relive the history of the ’49er. Coloma, where gold was first discovered in California, was an hour away, but the entire area had been rich in ore. At 5,912 feet, the nearby Kennedy mine was one of the deepest gold mines in the world.
“So you’ve met these men?” she asked.
“Just last week. I was selling my gold dredge. They saw my flyer on the bulletin board at the diner and came over to buy it. I guess they weren’t finding anything using the panning method.”
“Did you like them?”
“Not a bit.” Godfrey spoke with his usual candor, but she’d already guessed his feelings from his sour expression.
“Why not?”
“They’re unruly braggarts with big mouths and no respect. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought they were related to the Amoses.”
The Amoses weren’t as bad as they’d been immediately after their father went to prison. As a matter of fact, she really liked Cheyenne’s husband. But she didn’t mention that she now knew Dylan and cared about him. She didn’t want to veer off topic. “I’m surprised they didn’t hear their dogs growling and barking. You’d think they would’ve gone out to see what was going on.”
He shrugged. “They were probably passed out, drunk.”
“They’re big partiers?”
“That’s the impression they gave me.”
“Great.” She rolled of her eyes. “Just who you want living so close—and with a couple of unsafe pit bulls, too.”
He acknowledged her sarcasm with a tip of his cup. “Fortunately, it’s only for three months.”
Rifle brushed up against her, wanting some attention, so she bent to scratch behind his ears. “Short-timers or no, they still have to keep their dogs from biting people,” she said. “Mr. McCloud could’ve been killed.”
Godfrey sipped his coffee before responding. “I plan on heading over there later.”
Knowing he’d do whatever needed to be done, she changed the subject. “Will Mr. McCloud be okay?”
Her neighbor’s hands were oversize, like her injured guest’s, except that Godfrey’s were also thick. When he was stitching up Levi’s bite wounds, Callie had been impressed by how dexterous his sausagelike fingers could be.
“As long as those bites don’t get infected, he should be. He’ll have a few scars, but I made the stitches very small. That’ll help. In my opinion, he should get a tetanus booster, but he claims he was in the military, that his shots are current.”
“They make sure soldiers stay up on that sort of thing, don’t they?”
“They do. If he was really a soldier.”
Apparently, Godfrey was taking nothing for granted. The people of Whiskey Creek could be suspicious of outsiders. But Callie believed at least that much of McCloud’s story. He had a tattoo on one shoulder depicting an eagle with the word Freedom. A tattoo on the other arm said R.I.P. Sanchez, Williams, Phelps, Smith. The names were in different fonts, as if they’d been added as he’d lost friends.
She preferred not to consider how hard that would be to cope with.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help, G.,” she said, using the nickname her grandfather had given him. Poppy had coined a nickname for everyone. It was usually a shortened version of that person’s first name but Godfrey became a little tricky. Only his wife sometimes teased him by calling him God.
“Happy to help. You know how much Mina and I care about you.” Although his words were kind, he shot her a warning look from beneath his hairy eyebrows that indicated she might not like what was coming next.
“But...” she said, giving him the opportunity to speak his mind.
“But I’m going to stick my nose into your business and tell you that I think you should send this man on his way.”
“I will, of course. As soon as he’s better.”
“I mean as soon as he wakes up.”
Rifle wandered off as she sat down at the table. “G., he just got over a hundred stitches!”
“That’s okay. In a few hours he’ll be able to walk well enough to vacate the premises.”
But how far would he have to go? Godfrey had mentioned infection as if it was a serious concern. Certainly heading off into the wild blue yonder wouldn’t minimize that risk. And what if Levi couldn’t find his motorcycle? For all she knew, the cops had impounded it. Even if the bike was exactly where he’d left it, it wasn’t running. That was the whole reason he’d been in a position to be attacked in the first place. “He needs time to recover.”
“We don’t know anything about him, Callie. We don’t even know if his version of what happened is true. Having him here might not be safe.”
Callie sipped her juice. “But he has no home.” And he had no mode of transportation. “Where will he go?”
“Wherever he was going before he met you.”
His protectiveness wouldn’t allow him to consider any mitigating factors, so she didn’t argue further. “I’ll send him off as soon as I can,” she promised.
Godfrey finished his coffee and got up to bring his cup to the sink. “I’d better go. I’m sure Mina’s wondering where on earth I am.”
“Of course. Thanks again.” When she ushered him out, she put Rifle into the fenced part of the yard so he could get some exercise. Then she returned to the house and stiffened in surprise. Levi McCloud was no longer asleep. He was coming out of her bedroom.
3
“Those clothes were in the tub for a reason,” she said.
Careful not to tear out the stitches in his leg, Levi hobbled toward the door, eyeing the petite blonde who’d given him the help he needed. What was her name? She’d told him last night. Callie something... Anyway, he appreciated what she’d done for him. He also appreciated that she’d kept her word and hadn’t called the police a second time. He doubted there were many women who would’ve taken such a risk and he admired her courage. But he didn’t want her to get in his way now that he was ready to go. “I rinsed out the blood the best I could. I have to get my bike and my backpack,” he explained.
“And if you manage to do that, then what?”
“I’m out of here.” He never stayed in one place long. But how fast he could leave Whiskey Creek would depend on his bike. If the repairs cost more than elbow grease, he could be in trouble. He’d never find work in his current condition. With all the stitches in his arms, he looked pieced together, like Frankenstein’s monster.
“Where’s your backpack?” she asked.
He could smell coffee, wanted a cup but figured he could buy one along the way—provided he found his bike and was able to fix it. “I hope it’s where I left it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Everything,” he said simply. Everything he owned, anyway. That didn’t consist of a lot, but he didn’t need a lot.
She sidled over as if moving slowly would make it less apparent that she was cutting off his path to the door. “If you’ll go back to bed and get some rest, I’ll retrieve your bike.”
She had dark circles under her eyes, looked as tired as he felt. But then, he’d kept her up all night, so that was to be expected. She was still damn pretty. She reminded him of Charlize Theron. Maybe even Marilyn Monroe.
“You don’t know where it is,” he said.
“You could solve that by telling me.”
Her size relative to that of his bike didn’t make her suggestion very plausible. “I had to drop it when the dogs attacked. Even if it’s not in the ditch I was trying to avoid while I was pushing it—which it might be—you wouldn’t be strong enough.”
“But if you exert yourself, you could ruin everything we just accomplished with your stitches!”
She had a point. Medical help wasn’t easy to come by, especially for someone like him. But, as he’d said, she couldn’t lift his bike. “I don’t have any choice.”
She started to argue, to say nothing was worth risking further injury, but he cut her off. “What about the dogs that attacked me? They could still be around, licking their wounds. If they feel anything like I do this morning, they won’t be in a good mood.”
Her confidence seemed to falter. “I don’t have to go alone. I have a friend who could help.”
“A male friend?”
“Yes.”
He hadn’t gotten the impression she was in any kind of serious relationship. He was pretty sure it was just her and her dog living here. She had extra bedrooms but, as she’d mentioned to the vet who’d stitched him up, they were full of storage. The only bed was in her room, and there were no men’s clothes or belongings in there.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t have a boyfriend, however... “Is he a mechanic?” he asked hopefully.
“No. But he has a truck and a trailer. We could load your bike up, bring it here. And I could wash your clothes. You can’t be comfortable in those.”
She obviously thought she’d overcome all objections, but Levi had reason to be worried about one more thing. “What is this male friend going to say when he finds me here—in your bed?”
Folding her arms, she raised her chin. “There’s nothing he can say. This is my house. I make my own decisions.”
That was good news, at least. The last thing he needed was to get into another fight. “Then maybe I should go with the two of you—”
“Rest.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “If you’ll go back to bed, I’ll make buttermilk pancakes for breakfast when I get back.”
He was hungry. And it’d been forever since he’d had a home-cooked meal. His father had had a girlfriend once who could make the best pancakes he’d ever tasted. He missed her, like he missed some of the others who came and went. Pancakes shouldn’t have been much of a draw, but Callie couldn’t have offered anything that would’ve tempted him more.
Well, maybe there was one thing. It had been a long time since he’d had that, too. “Buttermilk pancakes, huh?”
Her lips curved into a smile. “You’ve never had better.”
He studied her, trying to figure out why she was being so nice.
“What?” she said, sounding a bit self-conscious.
“Why aren’t you in more of a hurry to get rid of me?”
Her smile faded. “Maybe it feels good to focus on someone else’s problems for a change.”
* * *
“Let’s go over your plan.” Kyle Houseman, one of Callie’s best friends and part of the clique she’d grown up with since grade school, drove his work truck slowly along the road where Levi said they should be able to find his bike.
“My plan?” Preoccupied with searching the shoulder and the ditch that ran alongside it, Callie wasn’t paying a lot of attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Once we get this vagrant’s bike back to your place. What then?”
She was fairly sure the motorcycle was gone. If not, she would’ve spotted it by now.
“Callie?” Kyle prompted when she didn’t answer.
“Go slower, would you?”
“I’m barely creeping along as it is!” he complained but did as she asked.
“It has to be here.” Pressed up against the harness of her seat belt, she gripped the window ledge as she searched. “If it’s not...I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“He’ll pay a hefty impound fee,” Kyle said.
Would some guy with only the clothes on his back have the money for that? “Someone other than the police could’ve taken it. Maybe it’s been stolen,” she mused. But she thought that would be the worse of the two possibilities.
“If so, his insurance will cut him a check. If he has insurance.”
Kyle had spoken her concerns aloud. She doubted Levi carried any more insurance than was legally required, and liability didn’t cover theft. “I don’t want him to lose his bike.”
Easing the truck over to the side, Kyle waited for a car coming up from behind to get around them. “Why are you so concerned about this guy?”
His surprise irritated her. Having a liver that no longer functioned properly made her look at certain issues differently. For the first time, she wondered how people could be so callous about certain things.
“Why are you not more concerned?” she countered. “We’re talking about a human being who was attacked by dogs. He’s already full of stitches. Doesn’t seem fair that he should lose his only mode of transportation.”
Kyle scowled at the censure in her voice. “There’s no need to overreact. I just don’t think you should get personally involved.”
She blinked at him. “What should I do, then? Throw him out?”
“Why not? He isn’t your responsibility. For all you know, he’s an ex-con. Even if he’s not, he could rob you blind—or worse!”
Before her diagnosis, both possibilities would’ve frightened her so much she probably wouldn’t have taken the chance. But she didn’t feel that way anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t care to enjoy what time she had left. It was more that she wanted to take the opportunity to do good before she was gone.
“He’s not dangerous,” she said.
“You don’t know that, Callie. Even if he isn’t violent, or a thief in the usual sense, he could take advantage of you in other ways—play on your sympathies, sponge off you.”
“He’s not the type.”
“You can recognize the type?”
Levi had been far too eager to handle his own problem with the bike for her to believe he expected her or anyone else to look after him. On the contrary, he gave her the impression that he was determined not to need anyone.
“I won’t have trouble getting rid of him when the time comes,” she insisted.
“You don’t know that, either.”
She met Kyle’s gaze. He cared about her well-being. She trusted that—but there were other issues at play here, too, including, possibly, some jealousy. While trying to help him recover from his divorce a year ago, she’d gotten a little too close and wound up in his bed. After a few isolated incidents, they’d agreed to end all sexual activity. They didn’t want to ruin their friendship. So far, that friendship had lasted more than twenty years.
But since moving to the farm, and knowing she was probably facing the end of her life, Callie had been so terribly lonely she’d slipped back into sleeping with Kyle a few times. “Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend, okay?”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Sounds like it.”
“Some would say I have that right!”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “Oh, come on! You don’t love me in that way, and you know it. You’re still in love with Olivia.”
“Since she’s married now, it doesn’t do me a lot of good.”
Only the fact that she’d married his archrival—who was also his stepbrother—made it worse. “Regardless, I can’t replace her. Even if we both wish otherwise, we’re not in love. We’ve already gone over this.”
“Fine. The motorcycle’s not here. Let’s go back.”
She’d offended him. Sometimes he wanted more from her than other times. She understood. She waffled, too. They cared so much about each other that it was natural to question why they couldn’t be even closer, why that added romantic element had never been there, especially since they’d turned out to be so sexually compatible.
“I want to keep looking. Could you please make another pass?” she asked.
Clearly not happy, he swung the truck around and began creeping down the road again. When they reached the Gruper rental, Callie peered into the yard, hoping to see the pit bulls Godfrey had mentioned and whether the animals showed evidence of having been in a fight. But the house looked empty of both man and beast.
Kyle broke into her thoughts. “How old is he?”
“Who?”
“This guy who showed up at your house last night. Who else?”
She’d been thinking about the renters. “His name’s Levi McCloud.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m guessing he’s our age. Why?”
“Just curious.” He turned down the radio. “What does he look like?”
He was handsome. There was no question about that. But Kyle wouldn’t want to hear it. Not in his current frame of mind. He had to be going through a difficult period if he was acting so possessive of her. “He’s about six-two, has blond hair slightly on the long side in front, hazel eyes and a few military tattoos. What does it matter?”
“I’m wondering if attraction is part of whatever you’re feeling about him.”
Another comment that seemed motivated by jealousy. She ignored it. “Can you pull over?”
“Here?”
“At that house we just passed.” She indicated the rental.
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to ask if anyone’s seen a motorcycle on the side of the road.”
“Who lives here?” he asked as he backed up.
“According to Godfrey, a couple of guys who’ve come to Whiskey Creek to do some prospecting for the summer.”
“You’ll just go up and knock?”
“Why not?”
“Because it seems to me that we’ve done enough.”
She covered a yawn. The night was catching up with her. These days she didn’t have a lot of strength to begin with. “This won’t take long.”
Kyle pulled into the driveway and let the engine idle.
Before leaving the safety of the truck, Callie whistled, just in case. When no dogs came running, she climbed out and approached the dilapidated porch.
The blinds were down, so she couldn’t see inside. Listening for sounds of movement, she knocked.
No one came to the door.
They were gone, as she’d guessed. She was on her way around back when Kyle called out to her.
“Callie, come on! No one’s home.”
She raised a finger to signal that she’d be just another second. She wanted to see if these men might have taken Levi’s bike and rolled it out of sight. But she found no sign of that. She even checked in the detached, one-car garage.
Nothing, except the dredging machine they must have purchased from G. and buckets upon buckets of sediment and rock.
Disappointed, she was walking back when she spotted some bloody paw prints leading to the mudroom.
Aha! She’d found the offending dogs, after all—or where the offending dogs lived.
Eager to tell Kyle that she’d accomplished something, she almost missed the dirty, chewed-up backpack partially hidden by bushes. It appeared to be military issue, which made her think it had to be the one Levi lost when he dropped his bike.
“Are you coming?” Kyle called.
After scooping it up, she returned to the truck and tossed it in the bed. “Let’s go.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her as she got in. “Did you just steal that?”
“I’m guessing it belongs to Levi.”
“But you don’t know.”
“We’ll see soon enough. I can always return it.”
* * *
The second Levi joined them in the living room Kyle could see that he had indeed suffered a traumatic dog attack. He had stitches in both arms, even in one leg. But Kyle couldn’t feel much sympathy. He was too worried about the threat this man might pose to Callie. Judging by the wariness in Levi’s eyes, those bites weren’t the only injuries he’d ever sustained. Kyle was willing to bet he carried some significant battle scars on the inside, too.
Callie had said he’d been in the military. Maybe he’d seen some action. Kyle supposed he could be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. He wouldn’t be the first vet to struggle with what he’d been through.
“Levi, this is Kyle Houseman.” Callie gestured between them.
Lean but sinewy, Levi offered his hand. He was an inch or two taller than Kyle and, Kyle guessed, two or three years younger. He seemed brooding, watchful and a bit standoffish, even while wearing Callie’s bathrobe, which should’ve made him look ridiculous. Instead, the pink terry cloth created a stark contrast between her size and his, her optimism and innocence and the cynicism of a jaded warrior. It also reminded Kyle of the wolf donning Grandma’s mobcap in Little Red Riding Hood.
Would he have to play the part of the woodcutter?
“Nice robe,” he said.
Levi lowered his hand when Kyle didn’t accept it, but he didn’t scramble to explain or apologize, as most guys who were so out of place probably would. “Would you rather I went without it?”
Kyle wasn’t pleased with Mr. McCloud’s response. But he was the one who’d set the tone. What had evolved between him and Callie put Kyle in a difficult situation. Their relationship was so complicated that he often lay awake at night, trying to figure out what should happen now that they’d slept together. “I’m wondering where your clothes are.”
Levi jerked his head in Callie’s direction. “Ask your friend.”
“They were torn and bloody!” Obviously rattled by what had already been said, Callie could hardly find her voice. “I’m washing them.”
Kyle grinned as if he’d been joking the whole time. “Right. Of course. Then it’s a good thing that robe fits as well as it does.”
A muscle flexed in Levi’s cheek. “I’m not after your woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His blatant honesty took Kyle off guard. “She’s not my woman. But I care about her. I want to be clear on that.” He also wanted to put McCloud on notice that she wasn’t as defenseless as it might seem, even though she was keeping Rifle outside in deference to what her guest had been through.
“All I want is my bike.” At that point, Levi turned to Callie. “Did you find it?”
When she shot him a dirty look, Kyle knew she wasn’t pleased with how he’d handled the situation.
“No. Sorry to say I didn’t,” she told Levi. “We’ll have to call the police, see if they impounded it.”
“But you brought my backpack.”
She stepped out of the way so he could get to the tattered canvas pack Kyle had set inside the front door. “Yes. It was at the house closest to where you said you were attacked. But it’s filthy. I think the dogs took out their residual anger on what you left behind.”
While bending to pick up his belongings, McCloud glanced at them from beneath the hank of blond hair hanging in his eyes and Kyle was again struck by the fact that this was not your typical vagrant. He was too handsome, too young—and he seemed very capable.
Kyle could only hope he wasn’t capable of violence.
“I thought it had to be a neighbor’s dogs,” Levi said. “I couldn’t have walked too far from where it happened.”
“Those dogs don’t belong to my neighbor, exactly,” Callie said. “They belong to whoever is temporarily staying in that house. Godfrey told me two guys are renting it. He said they have pit bulls.”
“That explains a lot—about size and strength.”
“You certainly weren’t dealing with poodles,” she said.
The way she seemed to be pandering to him bothered Kyle.
“Did you see them?” Levi asked her.
“I didn’t. But I discovered some bloody paw prints. That’s what tipped me off.”
There was blood on the bag, too. Kyle had ascertained that much when he carried it in. “Did you injure either of the dogs?” he asked.
Levi shrugged. “I tried. It was me or them.” He unzipped his pack and pulled out a pair of jeans and a
T-shirt. “Good news, Mr. Houseman.” He held them up. “I can get out of your girlfriend’s robe.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.” Callie’s words reiterated what Kyle had already said, but Levi ignored them. When he turned, presumably to go change, she stopped him. “Why put those clothes on over your stitches? You’ll just get ointment on them, and that stuff won’t come out easily. You need to eat and go back to bed. You can dress later.”
He gave her a pointed look. “Thank you, but I’ll decide what I need to do,” he said, and disappeared into the bedroom.
As soon as he was gone, Kyle guessed he was going to get harangued by Callie, so he went on the offensive. “That was rude what he just said to you.”
Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into the kitchen. “What he said? You started it!” she whispered. “You were all but banging on your chest.”
Kyle lowered his voice. “Maybe I could’ve been friendlier. But you’re being friendly enough for both of us. That man has issues, Callie.”
“Most vagrants do!” she responded. “That’s why they don’t have homes, why they aren’t with their families!”
“Exactly! So don’t tell me you’re still going to let him stay!”
She released his arm. “What else can I do?”
“Have him go somewhere different...”
“Like?”
He considered his own circumstances. “I’ve got my sister and her kids at my place.”
“I doubt he’d be willing to go home with you, anyway. It’s not as if you were nice to him!”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he grumbled.
When she tilted up her chin, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “He hasn’t asked for anything—except some bandages to stop the bleeding. The rest has been my doing.”
Kyle felt bad for not having more sympathy. He should’ve at least shaken hands. But, homeless or not, McCloud wasn’t the type of man who inspired pity. He was too remote, too mysterious and probably too angry. “He’ll be fine.”
“He has nowhere to go until he gets his motorcycle fixed.”
“So I’ll pay for a room at Little Mary’s B and B for a few days. That’ll solve it.”
She got the buttermilk from the fridge. “He won’t take your money.”
“How do you know?”
“Try offering and see for yourself.”
He didn’t answer because he believed her.
“Anyway, there’s no need to go that far,” she said. “We can manage right here.”
Kyle came up behind her. “He looks strong, despite his injuries, Callie. Doesn’t that intimidate you?”
“I have to go sometime, Kyle.”
Had he heard her correctly? She’d never said anything like that before. “That’s a weird comment. How can you be so cavalier?” He slouched into a chair. “Do you realize how much damage a man like that could do to a woman like you if he decides to cause trouble?”
“A woman like me?”
“Someone who weighs barely one hundred pounds?”
“He’s already had several chances to hurt me. He could’ve broken in last night instead of knocking on the door. He could’ve attacked me after I found him in the bathroom. Or maybe not—he was pretty hurt,” she said. “But if he was intent on rape or murder, he could’ve stopped me before I called you this morning. He was feeling stronger by then.”
“Just because he hasn’t hurt you yet doesn’t mean he won’t. Maybe he has a low frustration tolerance. Maybe you haven’t done anything to piss him off.”
“He’s in pain. From the dog attack and possibly other things. Something sent him out on the road. I get the feeling that all he wants is to be left alone.”
Kyle glanced over his shoulder to make sure they still had their privacy. “Fine. But it’s summer, plenty warm out. At least have him sleep in your uncle’s old room in the barn.”
She nodded. “I’ll have to. I only have one bed.”
“And once you find his bike and get the damn thing fixed, send him on his way!”
Standing on tiptoe, she reached for the flour. “I don’t think I’ll have to ask him to leave.”
A noise made them turn. Levi was there, wearing the clothes he’d pulled from his backpack, which looked clean. “I guarantee it,” he said.
4
Breakfast was awkward. Callie wished Kyle would go home. She didn’t like the skeptical way he kept looking at Levi, and she was sure Levi didn’t like it, either. He bowed his head over his plate as he ate. Then he thanked her and asked if he could use her phone.
After she handed him her cell, he walked into the living room and she and Kyle cleared the table.
“Don’t worry about the dishes,” she said. Levi’s voice carried back to them but they couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“I’ll help.”
She guessed Kyle was feeling contrite for behaving so boorishly. “What’s up with you today?” she asked. “You glared at Levi all through breakfast.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I know. I couldn’t seem to stop. It’s because I was already worried about you—and now this.”
Pretending to be absorbed in her work, she averted her gaze. She hated lying to those she loved but wasn’t ready to handle the alternative. “I don’t know why you’d worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Fine? You haven’t been yourself since you moved here.”
“Of course I’ve been myself.” She’d done her best to go on as if nothing catastrophic had happened but, of course, there were bound to be changes. Hearing that she had only six months left, that this summer would be her last, still wasn’t easy to cope with.
“No. You’re quieter. Reflective. Withdrawn. You don’t spend much time at the studio anymore, and you were there all the time before. I can’t figure out what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said firmly. “My assistant is taking care of Reflections. That gives me a chance to live here, on the farm, like I’ve always wanted to, before my parents sell it. It’s my way of saying goodbye to the place.”
He obviously wasn’t convinced. “You loved living in town, loved being in the middle of everything. And you were so determined to build your business. Then you went...AWOL.”
“I haven’t gone AWOL. I’m tired of doing weddings. I want to be able to photograph nature and help my parents, too. This is my opportunity.”
He studied the black-and-white photograph mounted on canvas that hung on her wall. She’d managed to capture a large, hairy spider spinning a web out in the barn. The texture of the old wood came through so clearly. And she loved the shadow of the web on the ground. It was competition material. She knew it. Finally, she was taking artistic photographs—but she wasn’t sure she’d be around to reap the rewards.
“So how are you making a living?” he asked. “I know your parents are giving you a little to get this place shaped up before they list it, but that can’t be enough to cover your monthly expenses.”
“Actually, the studio’s booked for the season and I no longer have to pay rent on my old apartment. I’m better off than before.”
“The business hasn’t suffered without you there?”
“Not as much as you’d expect.” Autumn might prove to be a different story, but autumn might not matter. One day at a time... “Tina’s talented. I trained her well.”
“If she’s that talented she’ll break out on her own someday.”
She wouldn’t have to. Callie planned to leave her the business. And she planned to leave Kyle her dog. Those were the only two things she had to give away, except her SUV, but that came with a monthly payment. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“So you’re happy?”
The way he looked at her begged her to be honest with him, so she almost came out with the truth about her liver. She didn’t want to hurt her friends and family by dying suddenly when she could’ve given them some warning.
But neither did she want to trade her final months for what sharing her secret would mean. Once everyone knew, she’d be the recipient of their pity. She’d have to live with their sadness as well as her own. And she’d have to respond to all that grief and concern with some polite phrase that showed courage in the face of bitter disappointment. She wasn’t sure she was capable of being as brave as that required. Not yet.
Besides, her mother would want to take care of her, would pressure her to move home, and she wasn’t ready. The doctors had given her until the end of summer. She wanted to enjoy as much of that time as possible.
Chances were good she wouldn’t die suddenly, anyway. First she’d become too ill to take care of herself. At that point, she’d come out with it. But right now, the medication her doctor prescribed kept her fairly healthy, if she was careful to eat right, get plenty of rest and manage her stress. It even kept her from looking jaundiced.
“I’m happy,” she insisted.
“So it’s not me. It’s not that we’ve...been together?”
“No.” She smiled as she touched his face. “I know you’d marry me if I wanted you to. You already married another girl just because you slept with her.” She was teasing. Their entire group teased Kyle about Noelle. First she’d used her pregnancy to get him to propose. Then she’d aborted the baby without consulting him when he wouldn’t buy her the mansion she wanted. It was the most astonishing act of spite Callie had ever seen. She still couldn’t bear to look at Noelle, who was once again working at A Damsel’s Delights, a clothing and handmade-jewelry boutique in town.
Fortunately for Kyle, that episode of his life was over. Callie thought it was also fortunate for him that she’d given up on love and marriage; she had no expectations where he was concerned. She didn’t have time to start a family. Even if she found the right man, she wouldn’t want to get romantically involved, wouldn’t want to hurt a partner by dragging him through what could easily turn out to be her death.
“The change in you...it happened about the time we first slept together,” Kyle pressed.
No, it had happened precisely six weeks after. They’d both drunk a little too much and slept together on New Year’s Eve. During the next four weeks she’d begun feeling poorly—tired, nauseous, feverish. She’d assumed she had the flu but the symptoms wouldn’t go away. Then she became jaundiced and, before people could start to remark on it, she’d decided to drive to Sacramento and get checked out at a twenty-four-hour medical center. She must’ve had some inkling that it was serious, or she wouldn’t have gone to such pains to avoid the local doctor. Still, it was a bombshell when, on Valentine’s Day, a physician from that clinic called with the news.
When she didn’t speak, Kyle said, “I can’t help but assume it’s what we’ve done that—”
“Kyle, you have nothing to worry about,” she broke in. “There’s no blame here. I want you to remember that, okay?”
She’d grown too serious. Her intensity made him even more suspicious, but before he could respond, Levi returned with her phone. Hearing his tread on the scarred wooden floor of the old kitchen, she whirled around to face him. “Any luck?”
When his eyes shifted from her to Kyle, Callie felt herself blush. She feared he already understood more about what was going on between them than the group they socialized with so often.
“The police have it,” he said. “They picked it up probably an hour before you got there.”
“Too bad I missed it. But at least it wasn’t stolen.” She didn’t ask how much the impound fees would be. She doubted he had the money to pay them and didn’t want to put him on the spot in front of Kyle. Besides, she felt partially responsible for his loss, since she was the one who’d told the officers about it.
“I’ve got to get back to work.” Kyle looked at Levi. “Want me to drive you to the impound lot?”
Levi shook his head. “No need. I’m not ready to go there yet. But if you’re heading toward town, I’ll hitch a ride as far as you’re going.”
He wasn’t asking for any special consideration. That seemed to soften Kyle up. “I can take you wherever you’d like to go.”
With barely a wince to give away what the movement cost him, Levi hauled his bag over his shoulder as if he might not be coming back. “I saw a gas station a few miles back.”
“The Gas-N-Go?” Kyle said.
He nodded. “Anywhere close to that will be fine.”
Finished with the dishes, Callie dried her hands. “What are you planning to do there?”
“Find work,” he said, and turned away.
She stopped him. “You can’t work! Not yet. You’re covered in stitches.”
He didn’t seem to think that mattered. “I’ll live.”
“Wait.” She sent Kyle a glance that warned him not to interfere. “I could use some help around here.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Doing what?”
“My parents want to sell the place. I told them I’d get it in shape.”
“Which would include...”
She could tell she’d caught his interest. “I’ve been meaning to repair and paint the barn, for one thing.” Her parents had bought the paint; she just hadn’t felt strong enough to get up on a ladder. She’d been considering hiring someone, anyway. The place had sat empty for so long there were plenty of other projects for her to do. Just keeping up with her gardening and photography seemed to be a full-time job. “If you’ll provide the labor, I’ll provide room and board until you finish. I’ll also front the money to retrieve your motorcycle and get it fixed.”
He adjusted the bandages covering the stitches on his right arm. “How do you know I won’t take advantage? That I won’t fix my motorcycle and leave before I ever paint the barn?”
“Will you?” she asked, but she figured there could be worse things. Liver failure had a way of putting smaller disappointments in perspective.
There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “No. Where’s the paint?”
She chuckled. “You’re not in any shape to start quite yet. And the fees on that motorcycle are only going to go up the longer we leave it. Let’s get that taken care of first.”
* * *
Levi kept quiet while Callie drove to the impound lot in Kyle’s truck with his trailer lagging behind. The silence stretched on so long it began to feel oppressive, so she made an attempt at small talk. “Last night you said you’d been in the military. Where’d you serve?”
When he glanced over, she could see him weighing whether or not he wanted to engage in this conversation.
“Is where you served classified information?” She grinned, trying to tempt him into lowering his guard, but he didn’t even crack a smile.
“It’s pointless to go through the usual rituals. We won’t know each other long enough for any of it to matter.”
“It’ll take a week to finish the barn, and that’s only if you’re a fast worker. So humor me.”
“Fine.” He shrugged. “Afghanistan.”
“That must’ve been tough.”
No response, but she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about such a difficult post.
“Where are you from?”
“Seattle.”
“Do you have family there?”
He wasn’t looking at her. He’d gone back to staring out the window. “Some.”
“A wife? Kids?” She’d seen no ring on his finger, but she knew that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t committed.
A muscle jumped in his cheek, giving her the impression that she’d just struck a nerve.
“Neither,” he said, the word falling like an ax.
Curious as to why he’d be sensitive on this subject, she asked, “So you’ve been married?”
It took him a few seconds to answer, but eventually he managed another word. “No.”
“Neither have I.” She leaned forward to catch his eye. “In case you were wondering.”
He made no comment, which led her to believe he hadn’t been wondering—or wasn’t willing to admit it if he was. He’d have to open up if he was going to ask any questions about her, and that would risk her asking even more questions about him.
“Wow, you’re really easy to talk to,” she said.
His eyes flicked her way.
“I’m afraid they won’t release my bike.”
“The impound lot? Why wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t have my license or registration.”
Considering his situation, this didn’t really surprise her. But it did create a problem. ID was usually required. “So what’s your plan?”
“I don’t know. It’s my bike. If we pay the fine, they’d better give it to me.”
Callie didn’t want any problems. “You didn’t...steal it, did you?”
He gave her a look that nearly shriveled her on the spot. “No. Just because I don’t have the registration with me doesn’t mean I stole it.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. He seemed too forthright to be a theif. “I have a friend who tows for this yard. Actually, it’s the brother of a friend. I bet Joe can arrange it.”
This seemed to ease some of his tension. “You think so?”
“It’s a small town. We can work it out.” She loosened her seat belt to give her a bit more breathing room. “So what brings you to California?”
“Figured this was as good a place as any.”
She had so many loved ones she couldn’t imagine taking to the road, trading her relationships with them for a series of roadside diners and two-bit hotels—even if she was well.
“Does your family know you’re here?” Who’d been part of his life? And where had they gone? Did they miss him? Care about him?
Again, there was a slight delay in his answer. “I haven’t talked to them in some time.”
Why? She wanted to ask, but no amount of effort on her part seemed capable of breaching the walls he’d thrown up. Because he wouldn’t engage in this conversation, it seemed more like an interrogation.
Convinced that she was wasting her time, Callie let it go. She wasn’t necessarily looking for a friend. She had plenty of those. She was just trying to be one. But being a friend didn’t have to include badgering him into revealing his situation. She could live and let live. After all, she had her own secrets.
Adjusting the volume on the radio, she fell silent and expected that silence to last—until he spoke.
“That guy, Kyle.”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “What about him?”
“You’re sleeping with him, right?”
Fortunately, the impound lot was coming up. “Kyle’s a long story,” she said, and turned into the drive.
* * *
At the farm, the sun bore down on Levi, reminding him of Kandahar in July. In reality, this day, which was somewhere around ninety degrees, was mild by comparison. He’d never felt what the word swelter meant until he’d experienced one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree temperatures in the desert half a world away—while wearing an army uniform and fifty pounds of gear. Still...the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun brought back memories. Once again, he could taste the gritty dust that clogged his nose and throat, the salt of his own sweat, the fatigue of intense exertion. He could also hear the Pashto spoken in the market they policed. Afghanistan had been unlike any place he’d ever visited or previously imagined, but he hadn’t disliked being there. Not in the beginning. Joining the army provided an escape from his father, which had considerably improved his life.
Besides, at nineteen and freshly graduated from high school, he’d been so idealistic and full of patriotism he’d been eager to face any challenge. He’d just had no idea what those challenges would entail—or how smiling at a pretty girl could turn out to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
“Are you thirsty?”
Grateful for the interruption, he raised a hand to block the sun. Callie was standing there, holding a glass of iced tea, but for a moment he thought he saw Behrukh in her shami dress and hijab—the way he’d first seen her in her father’s store—and his chest constricted.
“Levi? Are you okay?”
The vision cleared. This wasn’t Afghanistan. And Callie looked nothing like Behrukh, who’d been tall and thin with the characteristic dark hair and eyes of her people.
“Fine.” In some ways, he was better than fine. The impound lot hadn’t given him any trouble about releasing his bike. The guy there had chatted with Callie, flirted a bit and taken a call from her friend Joe, who vouched for him, and that was it. Hooking an arm around one knee, he sat up and accepted the glass she handed him.
“It’s too soon for you to be working. I wish you’d get some rest.”
“I’m okay.” He took a long drink, letting the cool, sweet liquid soothe his parched throat.
“Have you figured out what’s wrong with your bike?”
He motioned toward it with his glass. “Carburetor’s jammed. I should also change the spark plugs.”
“Will that be expensive?”
“Not too bad, since I can do the work myself.”
“Do you need parts?”
He squinted against the sun. He was feeling a bit light-headed. Maybe it was time to knock off. While he’d been tearing apart the engine of his motorcycle, Callie had been bringing fresh bedding from the house to the barn, where she said there was a room with a tiny bathroom in one corner. She’d apologized for the fact that he wouldn’t have any heat or air-conditioning, but it was mild here this time of year, especially at night. He didn’t mind making do. That had become his pattern for life. Right now, just getting out of the sun and into the shade would help.
“I need the plugs, maybe a few other things. I’ll know more when I finish here. But...maybe we can go tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I’m glad to hear you say it can wait. I made some beef Stroganoff. My grandmother’s recipe. Why don’t you get showered and come in for dinner?”
There didn’t seem to be any need to keep pushing himself. He wasn’t in a hurry. He liked the farm. It was isolated enough that, besides Callie, he didn’t have to run into other people.
“Okay.”
“My uncle installed an instant water heater for the bathroom in the barn,” she explained, “so you should have plenty of hot water, but the shower’s tiny and not much to look at. I put some towels out there.”
“Thank you.” Fortunately, Callie, the one person he did see here, wasn’t difficult to be around. After that conversation in the car, she’d stopped prying into his past. He got the feeling she understood that he didn’t want to talk about himself and wouldn’t push him again. Since they’d returned home, she’d left him to his own devices, and that felt almost comfortable.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and started back to the house.
“Callie?”
She pivoted to face him.
“Why are you helping me?”
Her eyebrows slid up. “I want the barn painted, remember?”
“You could hire a handyman. It doesn’t have to be some stranger who’s been attacked by dogs. Your boyfriend could even do it on the weekends.”
She didn’t bother protesting the status he’d assigned to Kyle. She didn’t seem to want to touch that subject, no matter when he brought it up. The way she’d answered his only question in the car led him to believe that she valued her privacy as much as he did. “You’ve got something I need, and I’ve got something you need. That makes it a fair trade for both of us.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why? You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t want to owe anyone.” He didn’t want to feel any obligation or gratitude, either. He didn’t want to feel anything—except the sun on his face and the wind in his hair.
“It’s a fair trade, like I said. That means we’ll be even.”
When he nodded, she walked into the house and he got up to take a shower. She’d said all the right things—but he had a feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he could wind up owing her a lot.
5
Dinner was delicious. Levi ate more than he had in a single meal for months. He probably should’ve stopped Callie when she kept ladling Stroganoff onto his plate, but he was enjoying it too much to protest. Unlike some of the other soldiers, he wasn’t one to complain about the food served in the canteen. It’d tasted better than any he’d known previously. His father had been so determined to make an MMA champion out of him, and to use that success to build the reputation of his dojo, that comfort foods and junk food weren’t allowed. No pizza, fries or greasy burgers. No gravies, no soda, no cookies or candy or cupcakes. He’d been in training almost since he was a toddler, had been raised on vegetables and lean protein. And steroids.
But Levi had flushed them down the toilet more often than not. Given the cost of those drugs, his father would’ve beaten him to within an inch of his life if he’d ever found out—there were certainly beatings for lesser crimes—but Levi definitely didn’t want to turn out like his old man. He often wondered if Leo would’ve been a little less vicious without all the performance-enhancing drugs he’d taken to build up his own body.
Levi expected Callie to try and strike up another conversation. Normal people talked over dinner. But, apparently, she’d figured out that he preferred to be left to his own thoughts because she didn’t say anything. Only the click of their utensils and an occasional “Would you like some more iced tea?” broke the silence.
“That was the best,” he said when he’d finished.
She’d already gotten up and gone to the sink. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to say even that much. “Thank you.”
When he didn’t leave, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “Feel free to go out and get some sleep.”
He was on his own? That easily?
At first, Levi felt relieved that she demanded so little. He was tired and sore, and he had a terrible headache. But he couldn’t walk out without doing something to show his gratitude. Where would he be without her? His wounds had been stitched up, he had his bike, he had a full belly and a bed for the night. That was a lot to accept without giving in return. He hadn’t even been good company.
He hadn’t been good company to anyone for a long time....
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
The setting sun cast shadows across the kitchen; she hadn’t yet turned on the lights. “I’d like to repay you in some way, if I could.”
“Painting the barn’s enough.”
He gathered up their glasses and silverware. He could at least do the dishes. She was looking pretty tired. When she thought he wasn’t paying attention, she’d lean on the counter or hang her head as if she needed to regain her breath.
“I’ll do it,” she said, taking what he held. “It’s not a big job. And you haven’t had much sleep, considering what happened last night.”
He couldn’t quite figure out why she was going so easy on him, why she was allowing him to stay. “You’re sure?”
She smiled. “Positive.”
For a second, he wondered if something more than fatigue could be wrong with her, but then he decided it was the odd lighting that made her look so pale.
“Okay.” He left the dishes to her but didn’t go directly to the barn. He went into her bathroom so he could wipe up the mess he’d made there last night when he was bleeding. He’d been meaning to do it all day, but he’d been too drugged with whatever sleeping pills the vet had given him while stitching him up. Then he’d met Kyle, slept while they went looking for his bike because he could hardly stand, gone with Callie himself and, when they returned, started tinkering with his engine. Now he saw that it was too late. She’d already cleaned up.
The shower curtain he’d pulled down had been washed and was neatly folded on the back of the toilet. He must’ve bent the rod, since it was gone.
Making a mental note to see about fixing what he’d broken—so he wouldn’t leave her any worse off than he’d found her—he headed out. But the place suddenly seemed too quiet. He glanced toward the kitchen to see why he couldn’t hear Callie doing dishes anymore and spotted her through the doorway.
It looked as if she was clutching the edge of the table so she wouldn’t topple over.
The creak of the floor must’ve given away his approach. She straightened and turned. “You’re still here?”
He ignored the question. “Are you okay?”
“Of course!” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I just...ate too much and...it gave me a cramp.”
Not entirely convinced, he waited to see if she’d venture another explanation. What she’d said so far didn’t quite match what he saw in her face. But when she left it at that, he could only accept her response. He couldn’t see why she’d have any reason to lie, but he also couldn’t see how whatever pain she felt could be related to too much food. From what he could remember, she hadn’t eaten anything.
* * *
Rifle woke Callie for the second night in a row. Nerves jangled, she thought her dog was still reacting to Levi’s presence. She’d been in bed for over an hour, although it was only ten o’clock. She’d barely drifted off. Maybe Levi couldn’t sleep and had gotten up to work on his bike. There was a light in the barn if he chose to use it.
But she couldn’t imagine he felt good enough to do that. And she couldn’t understand why Levi’s moving around would bother Rifle. So far, she’d limited contact between man and dog. The way Levi watched Rifle, as though he might have to defend himself at a moment’s notice, confirmed that he was now, if he hadn’t been before, leery of such a powerful animal. She had, however, introduced them, so that if they did come into contact there wouldn’t be any problems. Once Rifle realized that she welcomed Levi’s presence, he did, too. He’d even wagged his tail and tried to lick Levi’s hand when Levi came in for dinner.
So what was going on?
Throwing off the covers, she got out of bed and dragged her pellet gun into the living room. She couldn’t completely ignore Kyle’s warnings. Levi, or anyone else, could be capable of far worse than she’d ever want to believe. He certainly wouldn’t be the first person to turn on someone who’d merely been trying to help.
But it wasn’t Levi who’d set the dog off.
Headlights bore down on the front of the house, and the engine of a truck continued to rumble as a door opened and shut. Although it was late for Godfrey to be out, Callie guessed he’d stopped by to tell her what he’d discovered on the pit bulls. She’d left him a message earlier, detailing what she’d found at the rental, so she’d been expecting him to get back to her with an update.
She almost opened the door, but then whoever approached called out to someone else. “Get your lazy ass out of the truck and come up here.”
That voice definitely didn’t belong to Godfrey....
The passenger door opened and slammed as Callie stood at the front window. Because of the glare, she couldn’t make out who’d come to visit. It wasn’t as if she had the benefit of streetlights. Out here, there was no lighting at all, except the moon and stars, and tonight the moon wasn’t more than a thin silver smile.
The first man knocked as his companion joined him on the front stoop.
Gripping the pellet gun, Callie moved to the peephole and peered out. As she’d already surmised, she had two male visitors, neither of whom she recognized. “Who is it?”
“Denny Seamans and Powell Barney,” came the answer.
“Who?” she muttered to Rifle. She’d never heard of a Denny or a Powell. “It’s a little late to be out visiting,” she called above Rifle’s resounding bark.
“We’re not out visiting.”
“Then what can I do for you?”
“You can explain why the hell that old guy Godfrey Blume showed up at the vet’s today and had my dogs taken away by animal control.”
Denny and Powell were the Gruper renters.
Lowering the pellet rifle, Callie unlocked and opened the door.
The men were very obviously bodybuilders. About five feet nine inches, they had shaved heads to go with an overabundance of muscle and looked like twins, despite the differences in their facial features and last names.
“In case Godfrey didn’t already explain,” Callie began, “your dogs attacked a man who was pushing his motorcycle past—”
The first guy exploded before she could finish. “That’s bullshit!”
Callie didn’t know if it was Denny or Powell until he gestured at his companion.
“Tell her, Powell. Tell her Sauron and Spike would never do that.”
“They wouldn’t.” Powell shook his head as if it was a foregone conclusion. “I’ve been around those dogs a whole year. They’ve never caused any problems.”
Sauron’s name suggested he’d be capable of anything. The only other place Callie had heard that name before was in The Lord of the Rings. Sauron was the villain, which she suspected Denny knew. But she didn’t comment on that. He had the right to call his dog anything he wanted. Besides, the size of these men made her nervous. So did their attitudes.
She gripped her gun tighter, in case she had to raise it. She doubted a pellet would do much against the armor of all that beefcake—especially because she’d be lucky to squeeze the trigger once before the man who didn’t get shot took the gun away—but she figured it was better than nothing. “Then you need to tell that to the authorities. You have no reason to be standing on my doorstep.”
“According to Godfrey Blume, we do. You’re the one who’s saying otherwise. Seems your word is gold in this town.”
She couldn’t help reacting to his sarcasm. “Because they know I wouldn’t lie.”
“That’s why we’re here. It’s you we have to convince. You need to stop what you started, or I’m going to lose my dogs.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t change what they did. No one wins in these situations, least of all the animals. But I saw the results of what happened. You can’t tell me they didn’t attack.”
“It isn’t what you think!” Denny argued. “It’s not like they went after that drifter without reason. He tried to sleep in our garage. That’s trespassing. And my dogs just did what any guard dog would.”
Levi had to find somewhere to sleep at night. Given his situation and the late hour, their story might’ve been plausible. Except the police found his bike on the side of the road, halfway in the ditch, right where Levi said he’d dropped it. And when she’d been at the Gruper rental earlier, she’d seen no blood in the garage—only on the driveway leading to the back porch, suggesting the incident had occurred off-site, and then the dogs had trotted home.
“That’s not true,” she said.
The way she’d challenged his explanation didn’t sit well with Denny, who came off as the more aggressive of the two. “How the hell would you know?” His face, with its wide nose, jutted forward. “You weren’t there.”
These men didn’t act at all concerned that their dogs had mangled someone. All they cared about was the possibility of their own loss.
“I was at your place this morning,” she said. “I saw the bloody paw prints, Mr. Seamans. They weren’t in the garage.”
Denny’s eyes narrowed to a razor-sharp point. “You went on to my property?”
“I knocked first. You didn’t answer.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to snoop around!”
Rifle growled when Denny raised his voice, but Denny seemed too angry to care. Maybe he trusted her to hold the dog off. “Because of you, they’re going to put down two innocent pit bulls!”
“Because of me?” Callie echoed. “You mean because you allowed your dogs to injure someone!”
“I didn’t even know it was happening!”
“They’re still your responsibility. A child couldn’t have survived that attack. You didn’t see the number of stitches it took to repair what your ‘innocent’ Sauron and Spike did!”
“The stupid bastard they bit shouldn’t have trespassed on the property!”
Callie feared Levi would hear them. She didn’t want him to come out, didn’t want this to get out of hand, so she lowered her voice. “He didn’t trespass.”
“You don’t know that!” Powell shouted, despite her attempt to get him to speak quietly. “You don’t know anything! You’re just some small-town bitch who’s sticking her nose in something that’s got nothing to do with her.”
The barn door slid open with a resounding bang. At that point, Callie knew Levi would be joining them. It was too late to hope he’d stay out of it.
“Time for you to go,” he announced to the Gruper renters.
Because he wasn’t within reach of Denny’s headlights or the dim circle thrown by her porch light, Callie could only make out his shape, but it was enough to tell her he was striding purposely toward them.
Denny and Powell swung around. “Who the hell are you?” Denny asked.
Powell grabbed Denny’s arm as Levi stepped into the light. “That’s got to be the guy. Why else would he be in the barn so late? He tried sleeping in our garage last night, didn’t he?”
In deference to the cooler temperatures once the sun went down, Levi was wearing a thermal shirt with his jeans. He must’ve gotten it from his pack because Callie hadn’t seen it before. She liked it on him, but she wasn’t too encouraged by how lean it made him look in comparison to the two bruisers on her porch.
With Denny and Powell distracted by the interruption, Callie raised her gun. She was afraid she might have to head off a fight. But she hesitated to speak up too soon, didn’t want a show of force to cause this situation to escalate if there was still a chance of avoiding it.
“Calm down,” she warned Rifle who, taking his lead from Levi’s appearance, was growling at Denny and Powell.
Levi came close—close enough for Callie to see
the fury in his eyes. Together with the anger chiseled in the hollows of his cheeks, the firm set of his jaw and the thinness of his lips, he looked dangerous despite the fact that he weighed a lot less than the two Gruper renters.
“I don’t want any trouble.” She had to lower her gun to grab hold of her dog. She wished she could toss her weapon to Levi. Maybe it only shot pellets, but she couldn’t imagine him taking on two men without some kind of defense, especially these men. He had too many stitches, for starters.
To her dismay, he didn’t allow her the chance to give him the gun. He answered her, but he didn’t even look over.
“There won’t be trouble, provided these two get back in their truck and drive away.”
Denny seemed so surprised that this “vagrant” would stand up to him he didn’t react immediately. He glanced at Powell as if confirming that this was just the invitation they’d been waiting for, and Powell seemed to interpret that as a signal to take charge.
“Look, if you want to get your ass kicked, we’ll be happy to take care of it,” he said.
“Is that what you came here for?” Levi responded. “A fight?”
“A fight?” Powell laughed out loud. “I’m talking about teaching you a lesson, loser, about trespassing on other people’s property. Because it looks to me like Sauron and Spike didn’t do half what they should have.”
The porch railing creaked under his weight as he swung his body over it, but before Callie could even process the threat and let go of Rifle, Powell was lying in the dirt. It all happened so fast she couldn’t tell how Levi had accomplished such a feat. It’d looked as if he’d landed only one punch, but the big guy wasn’t getting up.
Denny, who’d started down the steps, was now backing away from Levi instead of heading toward him. “What’s wrong with you, man? Are you crazy?”
“I’m sure there are psychologists out there who would say I am,” Levi replied.
“Now I know what happened to my dogs, why they got the worst of it.”
He had no idea what his dogs had done. Levi’s clothing covered the stitches, but Callie kept her mouth shut because Levi was already talking.
“Your dogs attacked me, and I did what I had to in order to survive.”
Powell was coming around. “What the hell...what’d he hit me with?” He blinked, shaking his head.
“Just get up,” Denny told him. “Get up right now.”
Powell managed to find his feet, but he staggered before he could begin making his way to the truck. Denny waited for him, then hurried around to the driver’s side.
“This isn’t finished,” he called back to Levi as he climbed in. “I hope you know that. I won’t let some piece-of-shit drifter destroy my dogs. And you’ll pay for what you just did to my friend, too.”
“You want more, we could finish it right here,” Levi said, but he sounded more tired than threatening. Maybe that was because he knew Denny wouldn’t take him up on the offer.
The door slamming shut was his only answer. Then Denny threw the truck in Reverse, swung around and charged down Callie’s driveway.
As his tires churned up the dust, Callie gaped at Levi, who was shaking the pain from his hand. “Did you break it?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Would you know if you had?”
“I’m pretty sure I would. I’ve broken it before.”
Rifle whined and sat down, letting Callie know there was no need to continue restraining him. She sighed as she straightened, feeling weaker than ever now that the excitement was over. “What’d you do to him?”
He stared after their red taillights. “You saw it.”
“But it happened so fast.”
“Just because a guy can lift weights doesn’t mean he can fight,” Levi said with a shrug.
“Where did you learn to fight?” She put the pellet gun aside. “In the military?”
“There’s no need for martial arts when you have a lethal weapon.”
She thought of Kyle and how rude he’d been earlier—and was glad he hadn’t pushed Levi too far. “You had to learn somewhere.”
He didn’t explain. “If you want me to leave instead of painting the barn, I’ll understand.”
“There’s no need for you to leave. They were the ones who got out of line, not you.”
“But as long as I’m here, they could come back.”
“They could come back, anyway. And it looks like I’ll be safer if you stay,” she added with a grin. “I doubt my pellet gun could’ve done what you just did.”
“Rifle could’ve handled them.”
She watched her dog lick Levi’s injured hand and wag his tail as if he’d just found a new hero. “I’d prefer he not have to.”
A dark spot was growing on Levi’s sleeve. “You’ve torn out some of your stitches.”
He glanced down. “It’ll be okay.”
“We can’t leave it like that.” She waved him forward. “Come on in.”
She applied a couple of butterfly Band-Aids to act in place of the torn stitches. Then she changed the dressing and got a blanket out of the linen closet.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she made a bed on the couch.
She was providing them with a little insurance that Denny and Powell wouldn’t be able to jump him while he was sleeping. “I think it’s better if you stay inside tonight.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I won’t if you’ll do me this favor,” she said.
* * *
It was late when Levi woke up. He could tell by the color of light streaming through the windows. The exhaustion of the past few days had caught up with him, but where was Callie? Was she still in bed?
He lay without moving, enjoying the peace and quiet while listening for her. At first, he heard nothing. But after several minutes, she whistled to her dog outside.
Yawning, he scratched his head, then winced at the pain caused by such a small action. Thanks to the miles he’d had to push his bike, the dogfight, the stitches, the lack of sleep and the confrontation with the two bodybuilders, he was banged up. Every muscle was sore. But it wasn’t the first time he’d ever woken up like this. When he’d lived at home, feeling as if he’d been hit by a truck had been a common occurrence.
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
How often had his father said that? And how many times had he made Levi prove it?
Unwilling to think of Leo and all his talk about becoming the best, he sat up and waited for his head to stop pounding before getting to his feet.
When he finally walked outside, Rifle came racing toward him. Levi couldn’t help tensing at the dog’s approach, but he’d lived with the threat of physical danger his whole life—if not in the ring, then at home, with a father whose hair-trigger temper could explode for almost no reason. Levi wasn’t about to let one incident with dogs make him cower in fear, especially because he’d always been a dog lover. After his mother took off with his sister, it was his dog who’d given him enough love to get him through the next ten years.
Fortunately, Rifle merely barked a hello. Then he circled, acting eager to lead the way to his master.
Levi motioned for the dog to start off. “Fine. Go.”
With another bark, Rifle loped toward the barn, but he didn’t stop at the entrance. He trotted through the middle and out the other side to where Callie was lying on the ground with a camera.
“You’re taking pictures of dirt?” Levi asked as he approached her.
Lowering her camera, she looked up at him. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt top, which was no longer clean, due to all that scooting around. “See? I’ve found an anthill!”
The excitement in her voice surprised him. “An anthill.”
“Yeah.” A bead of sweat rolled from her temple as she smiled. “I’ve been getting some great shots.”
He indicated the camera. “This is your hobby?”
“My profession. I have a studio in town. Reflections by Callie. We do a lot of weddings. But lately I’ve been shooting nature.”
He recalled the impressive photograph hanging in the kitchen. “That spider by the table.”
“Is mine, yes.”
“It’s nice.”
She seemed gratified. “Thanks.”
“So how often do you go into your studio?”
“I used to go every day. But...I’m taking the summer off.”
“To photograph nature.”
“And to say goodbye.”
He studied her carefully. “To whom?”
Sitting up, she tilted her head so that the sun could hit her face. “To this place. It belonged to my grandparents before they died. I spent a lot of summer days and weekends here when I was growing up, have a lot of fond memories.”
“That’s why you’re living out here alone?”
“That’s right. Why?”
He hesitated to put what he was feeling into words. He sensed that something was wrong, something beyond having to sell a piece of property that had been in the family for years. But he didn’t really know Callie and could easily be mistaken. He hoped he was. As much as he was determined not to feel anything, he appreciated her kind heart. He’d never experienced much gentleness. Not until he met Behrukh.
Maybe that was why he’d been foolish enough to get involved with her. He’d returned to her father’s store again and again, to buy gum, candy, bottled water, anything he could think of. He’d never been with a woman before and his hormones were running rampant.
“Who’s taking care of the studio?” he asked. “Or did you close it for the summer?”
“We couldn’t miss bridal season. So I have an assistant—more like an apprentice, I guess—who’s handling things for me.”
“While you work out here, taking pictures of nature and getting the farm in shape.”
“Basically.”
She wasn’t wearing any makeup. He got the impression she’d climbed out of bed, pulled her hair up and headed outside. But he liked her this way. She looked fresh and dewy and soft.
Suddenly, he craved some of that softness. A moment of tenderness. A respite from the bitterness that had left his own heart so hard. It felt like forever since he’d lost himself inside a woman.
But the only woman he’d known in that way was dead because of him. So was the baby she carried—his baby.
He tried to steel himself against the memory he avoided more than any other, but nearly swooned beneath the vision that broke on his mind. Being around Callie made it almost impossible to forget what happened. Although she looked nothing like the woman he’d loved, the two had a similar spirit.
“Are you okay?” Callie’s voice was soft, practically a whisper.
He opened his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. This wasn’t Behrukh, he reminded himself. And what had happened in Kandahar? There was nothing he could do to change it.
“Fine,” he managed to say. He wanted to get away from Callie, needed to get away.
Soon, he promised himself. As soon as he fulfilled his obligation. “Where’s the paint?”
Although she didn’t look convinced that he was as fine as he said, she didn’t inquire further. She dusted off her knees and got to her feet. “I’ll get it for you. After we have breakfast.”
6
Callie turned on some music while she made fried potatoes, omelets and toast. She’d always enjoyed cooking, but having someone to fix a meal for was even more fulfilling. Had she been on her own, she would’ve settled for toast and juice, since she often felt nauseous after a big meal.
“You don’t have to go to so much trouble.” Levi spoke from where he was cleaning up his bedding in the other room.
She didn’t bother to come up with a response. She’d awakened this morning feeling inexplicably happy just to be alive. Part of it was the sunshine pouring into the old farmhouse. She loved it here, was glad she’d moved. But Levi was another reason she felt so good. Trying to help someone else gave fresh purpose to her own life. It also dragged her attention away from her various worries and complaints—and the inevitable, should she be unable to find a liver donor.
“Did you hear me?” he called.
“I heard you,” she replied.
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“Because I’m going to make what I’m going to make.”
“Okay, forget I said anything.”
She smiled at the pique in his voice. She had no idea what his story was, or if he’d tell her before he left. Most likely not. She didn’t care either way. He had a right to his privacy. She simply liked thinking that she’d made a positive impact on someone, if only in a small way—giving him a place to stay, some food to eat, a few days of peace.
“We need to go into town so I can get a new rod for your shower,” he said.
“Why not take the one from the other bathroom?” she suggested.
“We have to get parts for my bike, anyway.” Having folded his bedding, he was now standing in the doorway. She could tell by the sound of his voice, but she didn’t turn.
“Callie.”
She was pretty sure it was the first time he’d called her by name. She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
“What’s really going on with you?”
The gravity in his voice told her this wasn’t a casual question. He could sense that something wasn’t ideal. But she didn’t want him to know about her diagnosis any more than she wanted anyone else to know. She couldn’t say why. Maybe she was afraid he’d see her as flawed or defective. Why would he choose to spend even a few days with a woman who wouldn’t be around in a couple of weeks or months? And she didn’t want him to go. She was intrigued enough to hope he’d finish out the week.
“What’s really going on with you?” she asked, turning his own question back on him. “There’s got to be a reason a handsome, capable guy goes rambling around America.”
When he grunted, she took it to mean “Touché,” and chuckled to herself.
“You’re not like other women,” he said.
She got a plate out of the cupboard. “Are you like other men?”
“I like the same things they do.”
There seemed to be added significance to this statement, as if he was talking about liking women, liking sex, but she chose to ignore that—just as she chose to ignore the way he was looking at her. “Good. Then you should enjoy your breakfast.” She carried his omelet to the table before returning to the counter for his toast and hash browns.
“Where’s yours?” he asked when she sat down with only half a glass of juice.
She’d been so eager to see him eat that she hadn’t prepared anything for herself. “I’m not hungry.”
“You didn’t eat much last night.”
“I was too tired.”
“And now?”
“I ate earlier.”
He glanced around the kitchen, but said nothing about the lack of evidence.
She nodded toward his food. “Go ahead while it’s hot,” she said. Then she stood. “I’ll shower so we can drive to town when you’re finished.”
“I’d feel better if you’d eat.”
She couldn’t imagine why it would matter to him. “I’m fine,” she insisted, and felt his gaze follow her out.
* * *
Levi hadn’t felt much physical desire in the past year. He hadn’t cared whether he lived or died, let alone whether he satisfied his sexual appetite. After Behrukh, he’d figured he’d never want a woman again. He certainly didn’t deserve to go on without her, especially in that way.
But sitting in Callie’s house knowing she was standing naked under the shower, gave him his first erection—that wasn’t a dream—since Kandahar. He kept picturing the spray running between her full breasts, cascading over her flat stomach to roll between her legs, where he wanted to touch her, to feel her slick, wet body close around him.
Listening to the whine of the pipes in the old house, he stopped chewing and put down his fork. His heart was pounding, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. Did such a sudden, unexpected rush of lust mean he was recovering? Or that he was an even worse person than he’d thought?
A phone rang. Callie’s cell phone. She’d left it on the kitchen counter.
To distract himself, he got up to see who it was. A picture of Kyle filled the screen. It was her boyfriend, or whatever she wanted to call him, no doubt checking in to see if she was okay.
Kyle’s intrusion reminded Levi that he had no business thinking about Callie in that way. He didn’t know her. And, other than her one throwaway statement about his being handsome and capable, she’d certainly given no indication that she’d welcome his advances. Why would she want to be touched by a vagrant? Someone who’d essentially abandoned any kind of normal life?
He couldn’t act on his desire, even if she extended an invitation. He’d feel far too guilty.
Taking a deep breath, he returned to the table, where he finished eating in slow, deliberate bites. From that moment on, he was extradiligent about keeping his mind blank, but it didn’t help. He was still rock-hard when the water went off, so he quickly cleaned up the kitchen and fled to the barn.
* * *
“Your boyfriend called while you were in the shower.”
Callie was driving. Levi sat in the passenger seat. She’d noticed the missed call when she’d picked up her phone, but she hadn’t wanted to speak to Kyle while she was with Levi. She knew he wouldn’t be happy about the encounter with Denny Seamans and Powell Barney. He’d say that Levi’s presence had compromised her safety. But it was Denny and Powell, and only Denny and Powell, who were to blame for what happened last night.
“You mean my friend,” she said. “I saw that.”
“You’re not going to call him back?”
“I will when I have a minute to focus.”
“You might want to do it sooner rather than later.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Because...”
“He’ll only come over if you don’t.”
“True.” He had an excellent point. Having these two men in the same room made her uncomfortable. She preferred to avoid that in future. But if she called Kyle while driving, she’d have to use her hands-free, which essentially put him on speakerphone, and she wasn’t about to let Levi hear their conversation. She had no idea what Kyle might say. So she waited until she pulled into the auto parts store.
“I’ll be right in,” she told Levi, and dialed Kyle’s number the second he got out.
“Hey,” she said when Kyle answered.
“Hey yourself,” he responded. “Where’ve you been?”
“Sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”
“All morning?”
“Levi and I were in a hurry to get to town.”
“So he’s with you?”
“Sort of. He’s in the auto parts store.”
“I see. And once he fixes that bike of his he’ll be leaving?”
She clenched her jaw. “After he’s painted the barn, Kyle. You know the deal.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbled. “But I’m relieved you’re okay. He didn’t hurt you or do anything weird?”
“No.”
“The owner of the dogs who attacked Levi brought them to the vet yesterday.”
She slipped her keys into her purse. She could see Levi heading down an aisle inside the store. He wasn’t at the register yet, but she’d have to go in soon so she could pay for the parts he needed. “How do you know?”
“Cheyenne was there. Her dog has a sore foot.”
“Why didn’t she call me?”
“Why would she? She didn’t know you had anything to do with some vagrant getting bitten by pit bulls—until I told her.”
Great. Now Cheyenne knew? She was part of the group Callie and Kyle had grown up with. It was only a matter of time before the whole gang found out, which meant Callie would be hearing from more and more of them. “I still don’t get why she called you.”
“She wanted to tell me that she’d seen Noelle with another guy on her way home.”
Noelle had to be the most hated ex in all of Whiskey Creek. She hadn’t been particularly popular before marrying Kyle. Everyone had known he was making a terrible mistake. But, at the time, there’d been a baby involved and his sense of decency demanded he see it through. “That’s good news, right?”
“If she marries him. Then I won’t have to continue paying spousal maintenance.” He cursed under his breath. “I still can’t believe how much that judge ordered me to pay. He saw a pretty woman weeping in front of him and it didn’t matter what I said after that.”
“You could’ve fought harder.”
“It wasn’t worth it to me to drag the damn thing out. Money is only money, I guess. At least I don’t have to live with her anymore.”
“So how badly were they hurt?”
“The dogs? One had a couple of broken ribs. The other a broken leg. And they each needed stitches. Cheyenne said she thinks they must’ve hurt each other in the fight, because one’s ear was cut.”
The attack must’ve been horrific. It was a wonder both dogs and Levi had come out of it basically okay. Callie doubted someone without Levi’s ability to defend himself would’ve been able to fend them off. “They would’ve killed a lesser man.”
“A lesser man?” Kyle repeated.
She straightened at the wry note in his voice. “Someone who can’t fight like he can.”
“How do you know he can fight?”
“Because I saw him. The owner of those dogs—Denny Seamans—brought his buddy Powell and showed up on my doorstep last night.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to admit that. “I wasn’t expecting it to go the way it did.”
“What happened?”
“Denny tried to convince me that his dogs weren’t at fault, that they only attacked because Levi trespassed on their property.”
“Maybe that’s really how it went down,” Kyle said. “You don’t know. You weren’t there.”
“Levi wasn’t in their garage.” She was so glad she’d had a chance to peek inside it. She suspected no one would believe the truth otherwise, not with Denny and Powell protesting to high heaven.
“You were looking for his bike when you checked, Cal.”
“Yeah, but if those dogs attacked Levi in the garage and not out on the street, there would’ve been blood.” Just look at the amount he’d gotten on her porch....
“Maybe Denny Whoever cleaned it up before we got there.”
“When they had two dogs who needed to see a vet right away? No. I’m guessing he and Powell woke up to find the dogs injured, loaded them up and took off. That’s why they weren’t home when we went by.” She shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. “They didn’t bother cleaning up the blood on the driveway, did they?”
“So what are you now? A forensics tech?”
She could tell her loyalty to Levi irritated him. He didn’t want to deal with some interloper, especially one who had nothing—no reputation, job or known background—to recommend him. Kyle had been through too much with his divorce. Not only that, but he’d been stressed out before Levi appeared. His sister was going through her own divorce. She and her kids had been staying with him for two months.
“It doesn’t take a forensics tech to realize there’d be a mess,” she said.
“I’m guessing you told Denny and Powell this.”
It was getting too hot to sit in the SUV. Once again checking the store to make sure Levi wasn’t waiting for her, she opened her door to catch the breeze. “More or less. Then our exchange woke Levi and he—”
“Snapped,” Kyle broke in.
Why did he automatically assume it was Levi’s fault? “No, he didn’t snap. Not exactly. I think he would’ve done a lot more damage if he’d really let go.”
Kyle barked out an incredulous laugh. “Against two guys? Come on! Cheyenne said they were built like army tanks.”
“That’s true. They are—and last night they were itching for a fight. But when one of them went after Levi, Levi knocked him out with a single punch.”
Her recap sobered him. “What did the other guy do?”
“Fortunately, that discouraged Denny from getting involved. But he wasn’t happy. He helped his friend to the car, said it wasn’t over and drove off.”
Silence.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
“You should’ve listened to me and sent McCloud on his way when you had the chance.”
She slapped the steering wheel. “Levi hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“He caused Denny’s dogs to be impounded and knocked out his friend!”
“As much as I hate to say it, since I love dogs, those two are dangerous. So are their owner and his buddy! I have to stand up for the truth, Kyle. If I don’t, it’ll be my fault if those pit bulls are released and hurt someone else. Is that what you want?”
The question seemed to take the edge off his anger. “No. Of course not. I just... If Levi’s going to be moving on, it’s better if he does it sooner rather than later. That’s all.”
“Better for whom?” she demanded.
“Better for you.”
“No, better for you.” She hung up, then sat staring at her phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten into an argument with Kyle. They could get a little irritated with each other, and at that point they usually parted company. But she’d never hung up on him before.
Was what she’d feared happening? Had sleeping together ruined their friendship? Doomed it to failure?
She hoped not. She’d only been trying to give him a shoulder to cry on, had never intended to end up in his bed.
She thought of their other friends—Gail, Cheyenne, Eve, Noah, Baxter, Ted, Sophia, Riley—and was embarrassed. A rift between two of them risked the enjoyment they all received from being part of the group.
“You coming in?”
Callie jerked her head up to see Levi standing in the doorway. Thanks to her conversation with Kyle, she’d stopped checking to see if he was ready for her. “Uh, yeah,” she said, and dropped her phone in her purse before climbing out.
Levi watched her closely. “Kyle said something you didn’t like?”
She refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him.”
“He wants me gone,” he said simply.
“I don’t think he knows what he wants.”
Levi could’ve said more. No doubt he understood why their relationship was so complex. But he didn’t press her to answer any more questions. He merely held the door and she went in to pay.
* * *
After the auto parts store, which was located in the next town, they returned to Whiskey Creek and bought a shower rod from the hardware store. With the Old West–style boardwalk in front and the antique gold lettering on the window, the place resembled a mercantile out of the 1800s. Most of the other businesses on Sutter Street looked similar. They were definitely a blast from the past, including Callie’s photography studio, where they stopped next. When Levi had passed through Whiskey Creek, he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to it, except to eat and buy gas. Two days ago, this town was just another spot on the map. He’d never expected to see it again.
A young woman with long dark hair sat working on a computer. She glanced up when the bell over the door rang, then jumped to her feet.
“I didn’t realize you were coming in,” she said to Callie.
Callie shrugged. “I was in town, so I thought I’d come by, see how things are going.”
Her eyes drifted to Levi.
“This is a friend of mine,” Callie explained. “He’s visiting for a week or so. Levi, this is Tina, my assistant.”
Tina offered him a shy smile. “Hello.”
He acknowledged her greeting with a nod.
“I was just finishing up the Barrado album,” she said, returning her attention to Callie.
“How’s it turning out?”
“Great.”
“Farrah Johnson called. She was wondering when her pictures will be in.”
“I don’t know why she bothered you. I’ve already talked to her. I have an appointment with her next week.”
“Maybe she’s miffed that I didn’t do her wedding myself.”
Their words faded to background noise as Levi circled the studio, studying the photographs that hung on the walls—a pregnant woman standing partially in shadow, two toddlers playing with a bunny, a family wading in a river, several brides and graduates and chubby babies. Callie was good at chronicling life, he thought. She seemed to capture just the right nuances of lighting and expression—if these were all her work and not Tina’s.
In a small covelike display area, he found a picture of ten people, who all looked to be about the same age. Callie hadn’t taken this shot; she was in it. So was Kyle.
“You ready?” Callie asked
Levi glanced over at her. “Who are these people?”
“My best friends.”
“There’re a lot of them.”
She smiled. “Except for Chey, we’ve known one another since grade school.”
“Only in a place like this,” he murmured.
“Probably.” She fished out her keys. “There’s too much shifting around in the bigger cities.”
“You didn’t lose any of the group? None of them ever moved away?”
She pointed to a moderately attractive redhead at one end. “Gail did. She’s still gone, but she comes back to visit when she can. Do you recognize her?”
“No. Am I supposed to?”
“She’s married to Simon O’Neal.”
“The movie star Simon O’Neal?”
“One and the same.”
“How did she meet him?”
“She started a PR company in L.A. about eleven years ago. Used to do his publicity. She still does.”
“Didn’t he recently go through a very public meltdown?” He remembered getting bits and pieces of Hollywood gossip, even in Afghanistan.
“It’s been a couple of years, but yes. Definitely not his finest hour. That was before they fell in love and she got him turned around,” she added with a wink.
“I haven’t heard anything about him lately.” But he didn’t spend much time in front of the TV. Once he
returned home after his third tour, he took to the road almost immediately. At that point, what one movie star or another was or wasn’t doing seemed to have no relevance to his life.
“The fact that you haven’t heard anything is good news. It means he’s recovered.” She drew his attention to a dark-haired woman with olive skin and a severe widow’s peak. “This is Eve. She runs Little Mary’s
B and B down the street, which her parents bought shortly after their marriage.” She rested one graceful-looking hand on her hip. “It’s rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a six-year-old girl who was murdered in the basement in 1871.”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “Do you believe that’s true?”
“The murder’s documented. I don’t know about the haunting. Some strange things have certainly happened there. Eve’s not the superstitious type, would never make this up. And she’s not the only one who’s experienced strange noises and movement. Some people even claim to have seen the child’s ghost.”
“But not Eve.”
“She hasn’t, no.”
“Who killed the girl?”
“No one knows. The truth never came out.”
“Sounds like the twentieth-century equivalent of the JonBenét Ramsey case.”
“I guess you could say that. Unsolved Mysteries came here the first of the year and did a show on it. They hired investigators and forensic profilers and had Simon do a cameo appearance. In the end, they tried to say it was most likely the gardener, but I wasn’t convinced.”
“What about her father?”
Callie seemed mildly surprised by the question. “He was an older wealthy man who married late in life. Mary was his only child. You think he might’ve killed her?”
“I’m thinking he would’ve had access and opportunity.”
“But his own daughter?”
“Maybe she made him angry. Maybe he was trying to punish her and got carried away, went too far.” He understood how that went, didn’t he? If his father wasn’t beating on him physically, he was pushing him in the gym.
“The show suggested that exact scenario as their second favorite solution. But they couldn’t uncover any proof. I assume that’s why they went with the gardener. Who wants to believe a father could be so heinous?”
No one. Only the mother was likely to know what the father was capable of. But if she was as cowed as his mother had been, it wouldn’t matter. The child would be left with no protection.
Callie went through the rest of the group, telling him who everyone was and what each person did for a living. Noah Somebody owned a bike store. Baxter North commuted to San Francisco, where he worked as a stockbroker. Kyle manufactured solar panels.
“So he’s rich?” Levi asked.
“Kyle?”
He nodded. In the picture, he wasn’t standing by Callie. He had his arm around someone else.
“He’s not as rich as Simon and Gail,” she said. “But almost no one’s as rich as they are. Still, Kyle does very well for himself.”
Levi looked back at the portrait. “Who’s this?”
She’d already told him, but repeated the name. “Cheyenne. Pretty, isn’t she?”
Not as pretty as Callie. None of the other women were as pretty as Callie.
“But don’t get your hopes up,” she teased. “She just got married.”
“And this person?” He pointed to someone else.
“That’s Ted Dixon. He’s a thriller writer. Has a handful of books out. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
“No.” He’d never done much reading, not even when he was in school. Homework and preparing for college—that hadn’t been nearly as important to his father as making sure Levi was lifting weights and learning new martial-arts moves. Leo had needed a prizefighter to put his dojo on the map. His own street cred had depended on it; so had the amount he could earn.
Tina interrupted with a question for Callie, and Callie walked over to the computer to help. When she returned, she touched his arm. “You ready to go?”
Levi pulled himself away from the portrait. He hadn’t expected it, but the unity and tranquillity of this town appealed to him.
7
Callie felt a hard lump in her stomach the moment she saw a police cruiser turn down her drive. She’d been out photographing the anthill again while Levi repaired the hinges on the back door of the barn. The roof would need even more work, but due to their trip to town, which had included some grocery shopping on the way home, they hadn’t gotten an early start. He fixed his motorcycle first, so he’d only been working on the barn for an hour. She was already walking to the house, planning what to make for dinner, when she saw that the cop was Tim Stacy, chief of Whiskey Creek’s four-man police force.
Window down, arm hanging out, he didn’t seem to notice the dust being kicked up by his tires. He waved as if this was a friendly visit, but she suspected it wasn’t all that friendly. Although Chief Stacy was about ten years her senior, they’d known each other for years. She’d taken his children’s baby pictures. But if she had to guess, he wasn’t here for personal reasons. He’d come to get to the bottom of the dog incident. She wouldn’t have minded that, except it was probably at Denny and Powell’s insistence.
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Brenda Novak
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Welcome to Whiskey Creek—heart of the gold country! One day, Callie Vanetta receives devastating news… She needs a liver transplant. But her doctors warn that, in her case, the chances of finding a compatible donor aren’t good. Determined to spend whatever time she has left on her own terms, she keeps the diagnosis to herself and moves out to her late grandparents’ farm.She’s always wanted to live there. But the farm hasn’t been worked in years and she begins to fear she can’t manage it, that she’ll have to return to town. One night, a stranger comes knocking at her door…He’s an attractive and mysterious drifter by the name of Levi McCloud, and he offers to trade work for a few nights’ shelter. Callie figures she doesn’t have anything to lose. He needs a place to stay until he can fix his motorcycle; she needs an extra pair of hands.The arrangement seems ideal until what was supposed to be temporary starts to look more and more permanent. Then she realizes she does have something to lose—her heart. And although he doesn’t yet know it, Levi stands to lose even more.